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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23731714">Itachi Uchiha: Plant Dad</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/taro_ghost/pseuds/taro_ghost'>taro_ghost</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Naruto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Awkward Crush, Awkward Flirting, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Language of Flowers, M/M, Post-Fourth Shinobi War, Protective Uchiha Sasuke, Slow Burn, Uchiha Itachi Lives, and i dont mean just the characters, author is horribly touch-starved that is why everything is AWKWARD af, i mean the three-page hug description, itachi deserves love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:47:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>32,809</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23731714</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/taro_ghost/pseuds/taro_ghost</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>At Sasuke and Naruto’s behest, Itachi tries to reconcile with his guilt. But he is Itachi Uchiha after all, and his sorrow is like a second skin: so he starts a garden with a plant for each clan member killed in the Uchiha Massacre. There’s too much blood on his hands to ever entirely forgive himself—but perhaps he could try to nurture something now. He also just can’t seem to leave the cute owner of the village plant shop alone. </p><p>Mirai just assumes Itachi is coming to her shop to buy flowers for his numerous dates and lovers. She hopes he meets someone decent soon, because she’s sick of selling plants that symbolize grief to such a sweet man.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Uchiha Itachi/Original Female Character(s), Uchiha Itachi/Reader, Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>204</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>628</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Dani’s Stash</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. tomato</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i cannot form any coherent words at the moment to explain myself. it is 1 a.m. and all i know is that *clenches fist* itachi is precious and deserves love. and obviously this is self-indulgent, but it would be even more so if someone could validate these feelings of mine.</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>"Worldly" by Araya</p><p>"Points" by Pearson, Lily Potter</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The man with the long hair has been standing in the same spot for quite a while now. It’s not unusual for customers to do that in the shop—they’re most likely deliberating over which plant to buy—but Mirai can’t help but wonder about him. She didn’t hear him or his taller companion enter the shop, so she has no idea exactly how long he’s been standing by the cherry tomatoes.</p><p>His companion is browsing the sunflowers, but Mirai can tell the taller man isn’t really interested in buying anything. He’s just staying close to his companion while giving him adequate space, and probably hoping that they’ll leave soon. She had gotten quite good at reading the body language of customers after working the plant shop for a year.</p><p>Mirai turns her eyes back to the long-haired man by the cherry tomatoes, who’s stooping to examine something by the base of the plants. Perhaps checking the soil? Or the tags? She counts to a minute, and he’s still hunched over in the same position.</p><p>There’s something she can’t quite name, aside from instinct, but this feeling in her gut tells her that the long-haired man by the cherry tomatoes might be attractive. Her suspicions are confirmed when she approaches him and he turns to smile at her.</p><p>He’s also Itachi Uchiha, one of the most mysterious ninjas of the Hidden Leaf.</p><p>Which can only mean his companion is his younger brother, Sasuke, who could be equally mysterious if he wasn’t basically engaged to the loudest and most popular citizen of Konoha, Naruto Uzumaki.</p><p>“Hello,” Itachi says politely.</p><p>His voice sends shivers down her spine. It’s not a scary shiver, although maybe she should be scared that her libido could be kicked into overdrive by a simple ‘hello.’ In Mirai’s defense, no one had told her that Itachi Uchiha’s voice sounded like<em> that</em>.</p><p>She realizes a bit too late that she’s been quiet for a tad longer than socially acceptable, evident by Sasuke glaring at her from Itachi’s side. When the fuck did he even get there?</p><p>“Hello,” she blurts, nodding at the brothers, “I saw you looking at the cherry tomatoes for a while and was wondering if you had a question?”</p><p>“Can’t he look at the plants in peace? If you’re afraid of him, you could have just told us to leave,” Sasuke retorts angrily, and Mirai can’t mask the shock on her face.</p><p>“That’s not what I meant! I just didn’t hear you both come in, so I was wondering what he was…I was just wondering if there was something I could answer,” Mirai protested.</p><p>Itachi lays a hand on Sasuke’s shoulder, the latter rolling his eyes and stalking back over to the sunflowers. Mirai took the younger Uchiha’s softened glare before he left as an apology.</p><p>“Sorry about that, he’s…still uneasy about me going out sometimes,” Itachi murmurs.</p><p>Mirai wonders why his voice is so captivating when the man is speaking so softly. Maybe that’s the trick? She shuffles the wonders of Itachi Uchiha’s sexy voice into the back of her brain for later.</p><p>“That’s unfortunate. But you <em>are</em> welcome here anytime.”</p><p>She’s not exactly sure what else to say. But it’s the truth, and she hopes Itachi knows she’s not afraid of him—and it’s not just because he’s pretty. The injustice of the other villagers’ fear and misunderstanding toward Itachi twinges inside of her. After the Fourth War, there had been lots of efforts to demystify the conspiracies and history of Konoha. Everyone knew the truth about Danzo, Itachi, and the Uchiha Clan Massacre now, but there were still a few horribly ignorant people.</p><p>“Thank you,” Itachi smiles another small smile.</p><p>Mirai turns to the tomatoes, hoping she’s not turning as red as one of those fruits right now: “So, are looking to purchase one of these boys?”</p><p>Itachi lets out a dry chuckle at the shopkeeper referring to the tomato plants as ‘boys,’ but nods in affirmation.</p><p>“Well, we have lots of varieties for cherry tomatoes. Did you have one in mind?”</p><p>Itachi shakes his head: “I wasn’t sure between regular tomatoes and cherry, actually.”</p><p>She nods seriously, trying to maintain a professional façade, “Well with the cherry tomatoes, people usually buy the classic red heirloom cherries. But if you’re not afraid of non-red tomatoes, the Sungolds and Brown Berries have great taste.”</p><p>Itachi watches in fascination as the shopkeeper identifies other tomato types and fiddles with their leaves as she explains their differences. She’s got a squirt bottle—in the shape of a frog standing up on his hind legs—that she removes from a pocket in her apron and starts misting the bases of the plants with. He wonders if she runs the shop alone. Itachi has never been here (he doesn’t go to the village much, asides from his regular grocery vendors) but the smell of fresh lavender by the door had drawn him in out of curiosity.</p><p>He also usually doesn’t talk much, especially to anyone other than Sasuke and Sasuke’s friends (mostly Naruto), but something about the shopkeeper’s tomato run-down makes his brain think it’s okay to suddenly ramble.</p><p>“I actually wasn’t even thinking of purchasing a tomato plant. I walked by your shop and was brought in by the smell of the flowers by the door. This is a very nice shop, though,” Itachi admits, “And then I saw the tomatoes. They remind me…of our backyard. We used to have lots of tomatoes. My parents grew a lot. I remember my father picking the tomatoes for my mother to cook, and Sasuke still likes tomatoes a lot.”</p><p>Itachi promptly slaps himself mentally for reminiscing about the past aloud. He was talking about his dead parents whom he had killed. He was trying his best to not to beat himself up over it, per Sasuke and Naruto’s pleas, but he wondered if sharing what few untainted memories he had of the past with innocent shopkeepers was the right way to go about this.</p><p>She surprises him by not hesitating to declare that buying tomatoes was a fabulous idea.</p><p>“The Uchiha Compound is by the southern edge of the village, so you receive maximum sunshine there. It’s the most ideal place to grow tomatoes in Konoha, and I believe the soil is generally loamy there, too. That’s important because they do need lots of water but are prone to root rot in other types of soils. I’m sure you’ll have a thriving tomato garden like your parents’ in no time.”</p><p>Itachi looks very pleased to hear this, and Mirai blushes at the hope on his face. Then she silently cursed herself for doing so.</p><p>“Ah, I’ll leave you to it then, Itachi,” Mirai mumbles as she gives him a quick nod and speedwalks back to the cash register at the front.</p><p>She’s surprised him again, for the second time today. Although he can’t expect to go around the village unnoticed, it’s shockingly pleasant to hear his name so casually like that. The only other people who address him by name—without apprehension—are Sasuke, Naruto, and their friends. Itachi wonders what the girl’s name is. And who is she, besides a plant shopkeeper?</p><p>He turns back to the tomatoes. His eyesight feels considerably worse whenever he’s out doing normal things in public, like looking at tomato plant labels. He has to squint to read them, his face just inches away from the dirt.</p><p>Itachi settles on the Better Boy variety. They’re not cherry tomatoes, but larger tomatoes are the most logical choice if he wants to eventually provide for Sasuke’s tomato consumption. His parents’ tomato garden also had larger tomatoes, not cherry tomatoes. The plant’s name makes him chuckle again, remembering how the girl referred to all the tomatoes as ‘boys’ earlier. And he is trying to become better—if not for himself, for Sasuke and Naruto. This will be a suitable tomato, he decides, as he gingerly picks up the pot of the sturdiest-looking Better Boy from the pack of six plants.</p><p>The shopkeeper looks up from a small bonsai she is pruning as he approaches the register. She nods in agreement at his choice, and something inside Itachi wants to beam at her approval. But that’s stupid, because Uchihas do not beam. Not at this age, anyways.</p><p>“You took all that time for a vegetable?” Sasuke interrupts from behind him.</p><p>Itachi wants to glare at his brother, but just exhales instead. He’s about to tell Sasuke that tomatoes are actually fruits but the girl, much to his delight, says so first.</p><p>“Yes, Sasuke. Didn’t you know?” Itachi blinks at Sasuke. </p><p>His younger brother mutters something about waiting outside and stalks out the door. Itachi turns back to the girl.</p><p>“I’m glad you know about that, too,” she grins, “Not many people know. Or it’s actually somewhat common knowledge—not that I’m calling Sasuke stupid-”</p><p>Itachi’s left eyebrow raises somewhat sarcastically—<em>how the fuck can he convey sarcasm in an eyebrow raise,</em> Mirai wonders—and she blabbles about tomatoes to distract herself.</p><p>“They were quite misunderstood for a while because of that whole fruit-vegetable thing. And even before that, some people thought tomatoes were actually poisonous. At least now they’re representative of good things like blood, life, and fertility. Among other things, because plants can have so many different meanings…”</p><p><em>Misunderstood, poisonous. Blood, life.</em> Those words have convinced Itachi that he absolutely <em>needs</em> this tomato now.</p><p>“An appropriate plant for the Uchiha then,” he says, his voice soft enough for her to pretend she did not hear if it makes her uncomfortable, but loud enough to be just barely discernible.</p><p>Mirai meets his eyes and responds with a simple but firm, “Yes.”</p><p>She adds, “And red is a color for your clan, right?” to which he nods in assent.</p><p>She asks if he needs any information on the Better Boy’s specific water preferences and how to transfer it into the ground; Itachi nods and catalogs his observations about her as she rattles off instructions.</p><p>Her hands look soft, but strong. She was inspecting his tomato plant carefully, and he saw the strength in her fingers as she casually and dexterously flicked through the leaves. Hands are the number one tell-tale sign of shinobi. It’s almost impossible to avoid scars there for most, and rough-looking hands are almost universal. If not rough hands altogether, at least hardened knuckles. But her fingers are slender and smooth, and the way she was holding the small shears earlier for the bonsai did not indicate any ninja training.</p><p>She can’t be any older than Sasuke and Naruto, so there’s a possibility she’s a civilian. He can sense a small bit of chakra in her. It hits him a bit belatedly, but he realizes she’s also nervous. He can’t place the reason why, until he accidentally steps closer and her cheeks turn pink.</p><p>There’s incidentally something on the counter that suits Sasuke. Itachi selects the one that looks most like his brother and sets it gently next to the register. Mirai doesn’t question him, just places Sasuke’s impromptu gift into a small paper bag. Itachi silently congratulates himself on discreetly covering up his accidental step forward.</p><p>When she’s done speaking and rings up his purchases, Itachi is unaware what to do with all the information—not the tomato care, but the fact that this shopkeeper has found him attractive instead of repulsive. Even worse, he can’t stop thinking about how nice her hands look and if they actually feel as soft as they look. There was nothing in the <em>Adapting to Konoha Life as a Missing-Nin</em> handbook to prepare him for this.</p><p>He figures asking for her name would be a safe start, and is pleased to see her blush again when he does.</p><p>“Mirai.”</p><p>“Mirai,” he says evenly, and her eyes widen adorably, “Nice to meet you. I’d introduce myself too, but it seems you already know who I am.”</p><p>“Of course, but it’s my pleasure to meet you nonetheless,” Mirai replies.</p><p>His arm has extended out to her on its own accord, and he’s glad that he’s not socially inept—one had to worry about that with Sasuke Uchiha as a brother and most frequent form of human interaction.</p><p>Mirai shakes his hand over the counter, and Itachi instantly realizes two things. One: she’s quite small. Five feet, to be exact. Two: her hands are soft. Not like a baby’s or anything unnaturally squishy like that, but soft in an inexplicably pleasant way. Her hand is small in his but her grip steady. He silently wonders if she’s someone who might take moisturizing seriously. However, asking Mirai if she uses hand lotion seems not quite socially smooth right now. He also wants to hold her hand longer than is socially acceptable, and letting go is a fine test of his self-control.</p><p>“Thank you for the Better Boy,” he says, lifting up the tomato plant in a gesture of farewell.</p><p>She raises a hand up in a casual goodbye, “Thank you for coming in today, Itachi. You’re welcome back anytime.”</p><p>Itachi decides he really likes his name in her mouth, and he’s also hyperaware that these little discoveries he’s made today are making him confident. Oversure, almost.</p><p>“Of course. Your shop is very soothing—everything in here is nice to look at.”</p><p>Mirai radiates at the compliment, and he hopes she’ll take the bait. She does: “Thank you! The plants stress me when they’re especially finicky, but it’s all worth it. Caring for plants is very rewarding, I guess.”</p><p>He nods at her words, then makes sure his voice doesn’t waver, “Ah, I wasn’t talking about just the plants though.”</p><p>Itachi figures a wink is not cheesy but quite necessary in this case, so he does that, too. The result is worth it, as Mirai’s mouth opens in a little O-shape. He ducks his head in a half-apology and chuckles as he heads out.</p><p>When Itachi is no longer visible from the front windows, Mirai lets out an inhuman shriek.</p><p> </p><h1 class="char Zyyy U2698">⚘</h1><p> </p><p>They’re a couple hundred feet away from the shop when Itachi says contemplatively, “I think I just flirted with someone.”</p><p>Sasuke is thrown off-guard, but quickly recovers and scoffs.</p><p>“Tch. I know you’ve been taking reintegrating back into society really seriously by being a model citizen and all, but there are some things even the great Itachi Uchiha cannot do. Or rather, things that he can never do <em>because</em> he is Itachi Uchiha.”</p><p>“You don’t think I’m worthy of love, little brother?” Itachi feigns a look of hurt.</p><p>His little brother rolls his eyes, “No, just that you could not flirt even if your life depended on it. Itachi…you’re antisocial.”</p><p>“I’m not antisocial. People are just scared of me, and I like to keep to myself. It creates the illusion that I am distant and hard to approach.”</p><p>“Illusion, sure,” Sasuke snorts, “And I’m quite extroverted myself, don’t you know? Really though, I am a bit worried about you sometimes…”</p><p>Itachi laughs out loud, and the sound makes Sasuke stop in his steps. Itachi doesn’t laugh out loud like that often, and to think a simple display of sarcasm at his brother’s expense would be the trick…unfathomable.</p><p>“No need to worry about me, Sasuke. If you can develop a sense of humor, then surely I can flirt?”</p><p>“What?!” Sasuke is confused and also a bit offended now.</p><p>Itachi disregards his confusion as he continues, “Naruto is a good influence on you, but we both know that you’re much more antisocial than I am. So prickly, Sasuke. That’s why I got you this.”</p><p>Sasuke takes the brown bag Itachi extends to him and opens it up warily, only to find a small, dark purple ball of spikes looking back at him.</p><p>“Itachi? What is this?” Sasuke asks with so much concern that Itachi almost laughs aloud again.</p><p>“It’s a mini cactus, Sasuke,” Itachi replies as-a-matter-of-factly, “I picked the one that looked most like you. I hope you take care of it well.”</p><p>Sasuke sputters, but Itachi only smiles warmly. The younger Uchiha gingerly lifts the plant out of the bag, careful not to prick his fingers on any of its spikes. The dark purple blob is attached to a green thing that looks much more cactus-like. The plant did not look anything like himself at all, Sasuke thought. Even if he does wear dark purple sometimes. Nonetheless, he puts the plant back into the bag and takes care not to jostle the cursed thing as he speedwalks to catch up to his brother.</p><p>Up ahead, he finds Itachi whistling. If Itachi was not such a powerful ninja, Sasuke would have thought someone had possessed his older brother. Instead, he was at a loss. His brother was acting happy in such a strange way that it almost scared him.</p><p>“Wait, are you serious? You flirted with someone? You make…you made a move?” Sasuke demands.</p><p>Itachi shoots him a sidelong glance, “Why must you speak of it like combat? You can also just talk more to get to know someone better. Although, given yours and Naruto’s unusual relationship, I suppose you may have a strange idea of how other people approach crushes.”</p><p>“You have a <em>crush</em>?” Sasuke’s voice went horribly, uncharacteristically shrill.</p><p>No doubt any passerby would have shot them weird looks, but there was no one around as they reached the bridge leading back to the compound. Itachi smiled secretly, which was much more on-brand, but Sasuke’s fear only heightened.</p><p>“Oh no, the men and women of Konoha are <em>not</em> prepared. They’re not ready. I need to make a public service announcement,” Sasuke proclaims.</p><p>He’s only half-joking. The other half of him is genuinely concerned about who could have possibly attracted Itachi’s attention. And a bit jealous—no, overprotective.</p><p>Itachi just laughs out loud again, and Sasuke wishes he was funnier if it meant Itachi would laugh more like this every day. Then he sees the tomato plant, and wonders if the plant shop had anything to do with it.</p><p>Sasuke himself had found the shop mildly pleasant, although he would never admit to anyone he’d discovered his favorite flower today. And it was definitely not because seeing sunflowers for the first time ever had immediately reminded him of a certain blonde idiot.</p><p>Asides from the sunflowers, the other plants in the shop had been relatively lively, too. Perhaps Itachi had found the shop especially refreshing and tranquil. If visiting the plant shop made Itachi happy, then Sasuke would gladly take him there more often.</p><p>Then he remembered his brother just more or less expressed significant interest in another human being. Sasuke relentlessly prods Itachi for more information on the mystery person, but his older brother only smiles.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. amaryllis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>did not realize it's been nearly two weeks since ch. 1. quarantine has really fucked up my sense of time, but i also avoided ch. 2 for a while. it's longer than the first--but i do not think that's necessarily a good thing. let me know what you think or if you spot any mistakes/have suggestions!</p><p>"Pretty Please" by Allan Rayman</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sasuke’s eyes narrowed. From the front porch, he has been watching Itachi work in the garden for a good thirty minutes now. And he could have sworn he saw his brother’s lips moving.</p><p>But there was no one around and Itachi definitely wasn’t talking to Sasuke, who was at least fifty feet away. It was just the two of them in the Uchiha Compound. Well, them and a bunch of chickens and Itachi’s latest obsession…a tomato plant.</p><p>These past few days Itachi returned to the house every evening weary but bright. His cheeks gently flushed from all the time spent in the sun, sweat pressing his bangs to the sides of his face. Up until now, Sasuke could not ever recall seeing Itachi <em>sweat. </em>Yet even after hours of laborious yardwork, his brother still managed to maintain an air of grace.</p><p>Sasuke did not miss how Itachi’s shoulders were more relaxed the last few nights at dinner. How he seemed tired but simultaneously a bit more energetic. Instead of waking up in the morning to Itachi sitting at the kitchen table with the newspaper or a cup of tea, Sasuke would find his brother already outside.</p><p>He could not remember the last time Itachi showed this much interest—or any obvious interest at all—in anything. His older brother had spent days weeding the garden outside of their home. Sasuke had been completely dumbfounded at the sight of a clean yard, void of overgrown plants accumulating from god knew how many years.</p><p>Sasuke thought it would end once the tomato had been planted, but Itachi still spent most of the day outside, fretting over the thing. The tomato plant looked perfectly fine to Sasuke’s eyes, but Itachi was always constantly examining it. And the living room had been taken over by books on plant care and gardening. The younger Uchiha was a bit apprehensive, but he didn’t want to interrupt his brother’s determination in this mysterious project, either.</p><p>The sight of Itachi’s lips moving again—just barely—pulls Sasuke out of his reflection of Itachi’s strange behavior during the past week. Reluctantly, he makes his way over to his older brother.</p><p>Itachi did not look up until he heard a sharp inhale.</p><p>“You’re <em>talking </em>to the plant?” Sasuke shrieks.</p><p>He hadn’t meant to sound <em>that</em> accusatory, but Itachi’s soft whispering had caught him entirely off guard.</p><p>Itachi turns to him with a nonchalant look on his face, “Yes.”</p><p>“What are you even <em>saying</em>?” Sasuke hated the exasperation in his voice, but he’s seriously concerned for his brother now.</p><p>“I heard that plants grow better if they receive positive affirmation.”</p><p>Sasuke splutters. He was about to say something to insult Itachi’s intelligence, but refrained at the last minute. Itachi is a smart man. He’s being strange, but Sasuke would humor him. Even if it means letting one of the world’s most infamous ninjas <em>whisper </em>to a tomato plant.</p><p>“Hn,” Sasuke rolls his eyes, “Did you name it too?”</p><p>Like most things that came out of Sasuke Uchiha’s mouth, this question was sarcastic. So he has another mini-heart attack when Itachi merely nods.</p><p>So much spluttering in one day was ungraceful of him. Uchihas did not splutter, but here Sasuke was choking on his words left and right.</p><p>“What’s the name…?” Sasuke asks weakly.</p><p>He knows Itachi is kind. Extremely so, almost to a fault, if Sasuke could ever bring himself to criticize his brother. Itachi naming a plant should not come as a shock.</p><p>Even Sasuke’s cactus has a name—Naruto demanded to name it Duckbutt, because it reminded him of Sasuke’s bad hair days. And of course, if Naruto wanted something, Sasuke would give it to him. Sasuke was getting damn soft.</p><p>Itachi remained silent. Sasuke wonders if the name is embarrassing. The species of the tomato was bad enough—who in their right mind would call a tomato species “Better Boy,” of all things? Surely the name his brother had chosen could not be worse than that.</p><p>“Mikoto.”</p><p>It was so soft, Sasuke almost missed it—even softer than how Itachi usually spoke. Hearing their mother’s name makes something unfurl in Sasuke’s stomach. Something warm and bittersweet. He vaguely remembers weekend mornings, his mother bringing sliced tomatoes into his room to interrupt playtime with his toys. A green stuffed dinosaur. His mother’s long, sleek, and soft black hair.  An even softer smile.</p><p>Sasuke did not know what to say, so he states the obvious.</p><p>“You named the tomato after Mother?”</p><p>Itachi’s head bobs in a singular, silent nod.</p><p>“Why?” </p><p>He could not help that his voice cracked. Despite the hurt Sasuke felt every time he remembered his parents—and the much worse pain on days when he couldn’t remember certain details, like how his father’s voice rumbled and the exact coolness of his mother’s hand on his arm—he knew it was incredibly much more excruciating for Itachi. Itachi, who had to kill their parents by himself. Who had faced them that night and perpetually afterward in his nightmares, who had listened to them as they asked him to look after Sasuke, who had watched their breaths dissipate beneath his blade. And he would always have to live with this.</p><p>“Itachi, why would you do this to yourself?”</p><p>Why did Itachi hold onto the past like this? It would be impossible to demand his brother to entirely forgive himself or forget his deeds, but Itachi held the past like a knife firmly lodged in his chest. His heart seemed to beat remorse and grief. As if it was tragedy first, and blood second, that started flowing through his veins the instant he had entered into this world.</p><p>“When will you ever let yourself live?” Sasuke demanded, his hands shaking, “Why do you torture yourself like this?”</p><p>He expected <em>that </em>look when Itachi met his eyes—the look of utter loss and resignation, of a man who would and could never forgive himself. A man who had accepted an eternity of self-damnation. <em>That </em>look in Itachi’s eyes haunted Sasuke more than anything.</p><p>Instead, Itachi’s eyes gleamed, bittersweet.</p><p>“Sasuke, it’s not like that this time.”</p><p>Then he tells Sasuke how he was going to find a plant for each slain Uchiha during the massacre. Sasuke’s heart clenches as his brother explained he wanted to nurture life back into the compound. How plants in memory for each dead Uchiha would not absolve him of his guilt, but they might be a way of confronting it head-on, tangibly. The lives he had taken would no longer be thoughts and screams and <em>loss </em>echoing in his head, but leaves in his hands and dirt beneath his fingers. He would tend to each loss tenderly.</p><p>“Perhaps then I can find closure,” Itachi murmurs, “And I just thought…it would be good to put my hands to use. To do something opposite of killing, after so much…”</p><p>Sasuke wonders why Itachi’s idea of healing had to hurt so much in the process. Then he figured there was no painless way to go about this. Not for Itachi, at least. While Sasuke had only hurt those around him in trying to comprehend the loss of his clan—especially Naruto—Itachi always turned in toward himself.</p><p>Sasuke grudgingly accepted the garden could be good idea. Bittersweet, but that was just how Itachi was. He’s seen the effects of gardening on Itachi these past few days. There was no way his brother would ever find peace while locked in his own thoughts, but perhaps the garden project would finally be the way help alleviate all those years of internal loathing and despair. He’s glad Itachi was finally allowing himself to heal.</p><p> </p>
<h1 class="char Zyyy U2698">⚘</h1><p> </p><p>“You didn’t have to come,” Itachi says.</p><p>The bell on top of the door jingles, and Mirai looks up from the snake plant propagation, the roots of which she had been examining.</p><p>“Tch, you couldn’t possibly carry everything back by yourself,” Sasuke scoffs behind him.</p><p>His younger brother walks lazily over to the sunflowers. He looks disinterested, but Itachi knows better; Sasuke had stayed in the sunflower section the first time they’d visited the shop as well.</p><p>“Hello,” Mirai calls from the register.</p><p>There are glass vials and jars around her, with various vines and other plants sprouting out of them. She must be propagating, Itachi surmises. He lifts one hand up in a casual wave and smiles gently.</p><p>There are not a lot of things that leave Mirai so wholly breathless, but the sight of Itachi in the doorway of her shop right now is one of them. Watching his eyes crinkle ever so slightly at the edges as he smiles—the slightest, gentlest smile ever—her heart lurches helplessly. In the dictionary, a picture of Itachi framed in the soft sunlight as he is now would be an apt definition for the sensation of “breathtaking.” Her own brain has shamelessly snapped a mental image of this moment for safekeeping. It’s been burned ever so effortlessly into her mind.</p><p>“Good morning, Mirai,” Itachi calls out as he makes his way over to her.</p><p>
  <em>Oh fucking hell, oh fuck, he’s coming over. What do I do?</em>
</p><p>She tries her best not to fidget with her glasses. It’s bad enough she loves big frames that always slide down her nose every two seconds; she’s also aware she pushes her glasses up <em>constantly, </em>and subconsciously. Right now, she’s so incredibly self-conscious of each and every movement. How everything she does—or doesn’t do—bellows “I’m awkward!”</p><p>Amidst the fumbling, her hands accidentally knock into a rack of vials with pothos propagations. The apprehension that always comes whenever the brain registers something is about to fall seizes her chest, but the crash that she is dreading never arrives.</p><p>Somehow in a fraction of a second, Itachi has appeared at her side. He's saved the propagations, his right hand delicately grasping an edge of the metal rack. His left hand is steadying her own left hand, her stupid left hand that bumped into the vials in the first place.</p><p>Mirai’s brain slowly processes the feeling of Itachi’s warm palm against the back of her hand. Her left hand twitches involuntarily, splintering the timelessness within this awkwardly intimate moment of averted crisis. Itachi gently but firmly shifts the rack into a stable, upright position, his left hand pressing fractionally firmer against hers in the process. The rack is standing up now. Not a single plant cutting out of place or a drop of water spilled.</p><p>And when she turns to Itachi, her breath catches painfully in her chest. The pathetic piece of air doesn’t even make it up to her throat. Itachi is looking right at her, his aloof, dark eyes reducing her to a jelly shell of a person.</p><p>She makes some sound that was supposed to be a “wow” or “whoa” but instead comes out quite garbled. Embarrassed, the shopkeeper forces out a “thank you,” but her brain is still short-circuiting so she has no idea if the words were even discernible. Did her voice crack or sound strange? Itachi murmurs something that’s like a “you’re welcome” or “no problem”—it must be something along the lines of that, conversational conventions would mandate so—but blood rushes through her ears much more loudly than whatever he said. What did he say? She imagines—it <em>must </em>be her imagination—his breath…on her face? Neck? No, it can’t be. Must be a hallucination.</p><p>They’re standing close, that’s all she knows. Then it’s just the ghost of his touch as his hands disappear.</p><p>He’s standing at the front of the register now, and her body pules at the distance between them. At the same time, she is quite relieved. It had not felt like long enough a moment—mere milliseconds—but simultaneously <em>too much. </em>Who knew direct eye contact could be so deadly? And her left hand feels so empty, she wants to chop it off.</p><p>“Quick reflexes,” Mirai remarks dumbly.</p><p>Itachi’s eyes twinkle back at her. Behind the register, Mirai clenches a fist in an attempt to focus.</p><p>She thinks he looks unreasonably pleased at her awe and compliment; after all, she is only a mere plant shopkeeper. He is one of Konoha’s finest shinobi. He already <em>knows </em>his reflexes are incredible and saving a rack of propagated pothos should be nothing to him.</p><p>“Thank you,” he says, “Your eyelashes are long.”</p><p>Itachi says this matter-of-factly, and she can’t help blushing with the heat of a thousand oven stovetops powered on high. Her little squeak of thanks is utterly humiliating. The elder Uchiha thinks otherwise, but keeps it to himself. Mirai clears her throat and blinks to recalibrate, hoping to steel her eyes—and her entire being—back into a less vulnerable state.</p><p>He had observed the fact about her eyelashes earlier when they were in close proximity. He couldn’t help but to sneak a look at her face since they had been so close, and it’s not like he needed to look at the rack of vials to stop it from tipping over. Those type of things were trite instincts to Itachi, like how people waved their hands in front of their faces if there was a bug flying about.</p><p>But being so close to Mirai, her fingers underneath his and his brain failing to comprehend how someone’s eyelashes could be so long, had made another part of his instincts scream. The second she turned and caught him looking at her, Itachi had been caught off guard. And for a second, there had been no thoughts running through his brain, which made no sense. Itachi was <em>always </em>thinking and calculating, even if it was lethargic contemplation. Itachi Uchiha also did not put himself into uncertain situations and was hardly ever caught by surprise.  </p><p>By the time he had made it to the other side of the register, he’s decided the surprise had been a pleasant one. He silently congratulates himself for not discernibly showing any loss of composure during the brief state of shock.</p><p>“So, are you here for another tomato plant?”</p><p>The only thing betraying Mirai’s emotions is the fading blush, and she tries to think of unpleasant things to distract herself. Rock Lee and Maito Gai’s horrendous fashion taste. Instead, her brain conjures the idea of Itachi in a skin-tight suit, and that just fucks up her heartbeat even more.</p><p>“No, just browsing?” Itachi’s left brow is slightly raised in question.</p><p>It must be the grimace on her face as she’s trying to contain herself, how utterly embarrassing. Asides from occasional resting bitch face, Mirai was never good at hiding her emotions. She scuttles out from behind the register and beckons for Itachi to follow as she makes a beeline for the back of the shop.</p><p>“There was a new delivery today, perhaps you might like something from there. Lots of flowers—not sure if you wanted to branch out from vegetables—ah of course, this is very presumptuous of me, I don’t even know if you will actually even like these plants,” she babbles, glad that he can’t see the humiliation rippling across her face.</p><p>Mirai is about to apologize, but Itachi interrupts, “Thank you, I’m very excited to see them.”</p><p>Is that amusement in his voice? She doesn’t risk turning around. She’s already made a giant fool of herself enough times today. At this rate, she might trip over her own feet the next time she looks at his face.  </p><p>They enter the last room of the shop, a greenhouse-like area where she keeps all the new deliveries before organizing them into the main shop. Today’s delivery had been mostly mountain wildflowers specially cultivated for Konoha’s warmer weather. Itachi’s eyes don’t miss anything as he scans through interesting and colorful plants he’s never seen before, but his gaze settles on something red.  </p><p>“Ah, we also got an amaryllis today. That’s the one that looks sort of like a lily, but it’s technically in another family. Not a mountain wildflower, but the deliveryman brought it as a sample,” Mirai murmurs contemplatively.</p><p>Itachi is slightly startled that she could tell the red flower—<em>amaryllis—</em>had caught his eye. Not that he shows it, of course.</p><p>“What are they like?” he inquires meekly.</p><p>Mirai makes her way to the red flower, Itachi following after her. She swallows nervously as she registers the sound of his light footsteps padding the damp cement ground. Since when did the sound of someone’s footsteps behind her sound attractive? She was out of her mind.  </p><p>“They’re popular houseplants, even if they do look large. A lot of bulbous, flowering plants usually go outside—which is possible for the amaryllis, of course, but you need to be careful not to use regular garden soil. Potting mix is best, so it can drain properly.”</p><p>The flower is pretty, Itachi thinks. It’s red and white; he’s not sure if white with red edges or red with white streaks.</p><p>She watches him stare contemplatively at the flower—there’s only one bloom right now—and wonders why she feels compelled to talk. The silence isn’t necessarily awkward, but Mirai racks her brain for words. She just wants, desperately, to keep the conversation going somehow. With a jolt of shame, she realizes she craves Itachi’s attention. Simply seeing him is not enough.</p><p>Unfortunately for her, the only conversation starters that come to mind are plant-related.</p><p>“One of the symbolic meanings of amaryllis is pride. Also determination.”</p><p>She definitely isn’t doing herself any favors by babbling like a human plant encyclopedia, but she can’t bring herself to make small talk. She has no idea if he has a pet she can inquire about—does Itachi even like cats? Dogs? Asking about his day also seems shallow. They don’t know each other to the extent where that kind of question would reveal anything fruitful, anything more than a “good” or “fine, thank you.”</p><p>Furthermore, Itachi is a reticent man. Or at least she thinks he is. He did say <em>that </em>thing the last time he was in the shop, just before leaving—something she tries desperately to block out of her mind because there was no way in hell someone so beautiful and graceful was <em>flirting </em>with her—but even then, it had been concise.</p><p>“Pride?” Itachi questions, but it’s not really a question that warrants answering.</p><p>Mirai nods, but her mind is elsewhere now. She finds herself fixating on <em>that</em> incident from his last visit much more than she’d like to, specifically the emotions that incident had made her feel. “<em>Ah, I wasn’t talking about just plants though.” </em>Itachi Uchiha was a highly dangerous man in more ways than one. As her feelings accumulate, the humidity of the room exacerbates the warmth in her cheeks.</p><p>
  <em>Time to retreat. Abort Mission Have a Normal Conversation with Itachi Uchiha. Abort, abort. </em>
</p><p>She mutters something about leaving him to explore by himself, mentally cursing her uncontrollable nerves—<em>explore,</em> really? Her shop was not a jungle, for god’s sake.</p><p>As Mirai quickly leaves the room, Itachi wonders if he makes her feel the good kind of uncomfortable or the bad kind. The good kind being akin to that horribly cheesy description of having butterflies in one’s stomach. The bad kind would mean he gives off strong murder vibes, which he can’t really dispute…but usually that kind of discomfort discourages romantic relationships. Or draws very questionable attraction, based on his past experiences.</p><p>“What do you think?” he whispers to the amaryllis.</p><p>The plant doesn’t respond, and Itachi lets out a little sigh. Flirting is much harder than combat.  </p><p>On her way back to the front of the store, Mirai notices Sasuke squatting by the sunflowers.</p><p>
  <em>He’s still looking at the sunflowers? </em>
</p><p>She makes a mental note to move one of the chairs in the shop closer to the sunflower display. If he’s going to spend all of the time in the shop in the same place, he might as well be comfortable. Then she reprimands herself for assuming that Sasuke would ever come here again. He’s obviously only accompanying Itachi, and she might never see Itachi again after this. The realization makes her unreasonably upset. And then she’s upset for feeling upset over <em>this, </em>whatever it is.</p><p>
  <em>God damn it…of all the people in Konoha, this is the customer crush I get.  </em>
</p><p>She takes off her glasses and closes her eyes in frustration. God damn it, why did he have to be so beautiful?</p><p>
  <em>I wish I could unsee. I wish I could not see Itachi Uchiha. </em>
</p><p>Her eyes fly open as someone clears their throat politely, and of course it’s none other than Itachi in front of her. He’s cradling the amaryllis in front of his chest, one hand supporting the pot from the bottom and the other arm wrapped protectively around the plant. The sight makes her <em>swoon.</em></p><p>“Ah, sorry to interrupt,” Itachi apologizes sheepishly, and even his small smile is apologetic.</p><p>"No, that's quite alright! I was just resting my eyes."</p><p>Mirai rushes to pull herself together, clearing the space in front of her as a distraction. But she forgot her glasses had been in front of her and the realization comes too late as her hand swats them roughly off the table. </p><p>Itachi’s arm doesn’t <em>shoot </em>out—that’s too crude and cliché of a term—but his arm does <em>something, </em>because Mirai blinks and he’s holding her glasses delicately between his fingers. Like how you catch dragonflies, by gently holding their wings together between your thumb and forefinger. She could have sworn that she had almost sent the glasses flying at least six feet away with the stupid force she’d hit them with. It happened often.</p><p>The amaryllis is still in his other hand, and he doesn’t look ruffled in the slightest. Mirai, on the other hand, feels like she’s about to internally combust. Itachi is just too cool—it’s absolutely lethal.</p><p>“Quick reflexes,” she says.</p><p>“Déjà vu,” Itachi murmurs, and then he’s leaning across the register.</p><p>With one hand, he smoothly slides the glasses back onto her face, and Mirai tries not to gape. She can taste the iron tang as she bites down, hard, on her tongue in an attempt to hold herself together.</p><p>His fingers never touch her skin, and the act in itself is so light and graceful she doesn’t even realize he’s done until she sees both of his hands back around the pot again.</p><p>“You’re very smooth,” Mirai blurts aloud before her mind-to-mouth filter can save herself.</p><p>Itachi smiles that little, reserved smile again, and he feels very satisfied.</p><p>“You’re very clumsy,” he retorts softly, no heat and all fondness.</p><p>Mirai struggles to coherently defend herself, but gives up when she hears Itachi chuckling. She feels stupidly happy—<em>elated—</em> that she’s made him laugh. Much happier that she should, she realizes, but she can’t help herself. </p><p>“Just the amaryllis, then?” she asks.</p><p>His head bobs with a small nod, and Mirai wonders what, or who, the plant is for. Of course, she doesn’t ask.</p><p>He’s holding it like a child or a pet (as all plants should be held, really), and her heart is doing somersaults at the image of the man in front of her. Holding one of her shop’s plants like it’s precious <em>to him. </em></p><p>“Do you need any care instructions?”</p><p>“Isn’t it all on the tag? Your tags are very meticulous,” Itachi says, and Mirai’s heart <em>soars. </em></p><p>To compliment her looks is one thing, but praising her plant skills and shop is like spoon-feeding steroid syrup to her ego.</p><p>“Care to summarize then? Just so I can make sure we both have everything right.”</p><p>Mirai’s not sure where she got the boldness from (ordering Itachi Uchiha to recite plant care instructions, really?) but Itachi doesn’t even blink. He deftly plucks out the tag wedged into the soil of the amaryllis, and…pauses.</p><p>He frowns. Brings the tag closer to his face. Moves it closer again. Closer. The blurry ink splotches are finally are visible as letters, but then he realizes that the tag is barely two inches away from his face.</p><p>“What’s wrong? Is the ink faded or smudgy?” Mirai asks.</p><p>Itachi reluctantly hands the tag over, wondering why he feels embarrassed. Is that the word? He doesn’t feel embarrassed often. Or ever.</p><p>“Itachi…” Mirai begins warily, and he holds his breath, “Do you have glasses?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>That’s an easy question. That’s something he knows.</p><p>“Do you have eye problems?”</p><p>Well, he has the Mangekyo Sharingan. He’s not sure if that would qualify as ‘eye problems.’</p><p>“I…don’t know.”</p><p>He’s never thought about it before, but as his brain is running all the information, a horrible sense of realization spreads over him. She might be right.</p><p>“Can you read the name on the bag of soil? In the corner over there,” Mirai points to a stack of blue on the opposite wall.</p><p>The words must be the yellow streaks against the blue bags, but that’s all he sees. Colors. Blue. Streaks of yellow. He knows they are bags of soil, but his eyes cannot grasp the finer details. He can’t see the letters, the words. He can’t read them from here.</p><p>
  <em>Oh. </em>
</p><p>He wonders how long it’s been going on. As an active shinobi, details like words on the side of soil bags were not necessary to survival, to missions. It was things like faces and chakra that mattered most, and all the details he needed to watch out for usually belonged to things he dealt with up close. The tightening of muscles before a fight, the false innocence of an arm resting on a weapon pouch, the way the slightest twitch in each and every finger was a telltale sign of the jutsu to come. Those things his eyes caught—and still could catch—in seconds. Even surveying opponents from afar was different. He knew he could see every movement.</p><p>What he can’t see, he realizes now, are things that never move. He’s not immune to nearsightedness, and if anything, his Sharingan use may have exacerbated it. Being such a skilled ninja has only hidden the issue all these years, because things like reading names on the side of soil bags were not things he had ever had to do until now.</p><p>He feels an incredible amount of animosity toward that blue bag of soil in the corner right now.</p><p>“Glasses,” Itachi mutters, “I think I might need them.”</p><p>Mirai nods solemnly, and Itachi exhales tiredly. Things like this make integrating back into society much harder than he ever anticipated. As a missing-nin, he would have never needed glasses. His brain had simply adjusted, all these years, and his sensory skills have made up for any weakening eyesight. But also he didn’t have to read <em>words</em> from far away as a missing-nin. Damn soil bags. </p><p>“Would you like the address of my optometrist?”</p><p>Her question momentarily draws him out of his contemplation, and Itachi nods. Mirai scribbles something on a slip of paper, and hands it to him along with the amaryllis care tag.</p><p>His ‘thank you’ is soft. He wonders how many years it’s been since this eyesight issue arose. Have his eyes only needed glasses recently? Two years? Five? Ten? He can recall frequent headaches from eyestrain from early childhood.</p><p>“I’m sure you’ll look fine with glasses, if that’s what you’re worried about. They are a bit of a hassle sometimes—the lenses get so dirty, but also I never clean mine anyways—but they’re basically an extension of myself now. Ah, sorry. I was assuming that you’re worried or unhappy about having to get glasses…you look a bit worried,” Mirai’s words pile against each other like fallen dominoes as she becomes increasingly panicked with each new thing that comes out of her rambling mouth.</p><p>She interprets the look of vague amusement on Itachi’s face to mean she’s in the clear and hasn’t offended him any way.</p><p>“I am just a bit shocked. Thank you, Mirai,” his tone is not oozing with overdone gratitude, but the precise application of sincerity makes her blush, “I don’t think anyone else would have ever caught it.”</p><p>She nods and says something dismissive, attacking the register to ring up the amaryllis as distraction. Unfortunately, Itachi keeps talking.</p><p>“Do you like eggs?”</p><p>“Eggs—wha-?” she gapes stupidly.</p><p>“Chicken eggs. We have a lot at the compound, and I was wondering if you like to eat eggs.”</p><p>She has no idea what he’s trying to say or do.</p><p>“Ah, yes. I do like eggs. Very—very useful,” Mirai stammers.</p><p>Itachi nods, “Would it be alright if I brought you some next time?”</p><p>Mirai tries not to blurt out something indecent regarding her own eggs and how she’d gladly offer them to a certain long-haired Uchiha. She wants to submerge herself underwater—in very, very cold water—and scream. Itachi is precious, she decides, far too precious for her. Why was this man so damn charming?</p><p>“You-you don’t have to do that,” she protests, “The glasses thing is no big deal.”</p><p>Itachi is momentarily offended, because the eggs from the compound’s chickens are the best he’s ever had. Then he realizes two things: Mirai has never tried an egg from a compound chicken, and she might have also mistaken his offer as a forced way to keep it even between them.</p><p>His brows crease a bit as he frowns, “I didn’t mean to sound transactional. It is an honest offer, between…friends?”</p><p><em>You’re too honest! </em>Mirai shrieks internally. Itachi might as well be the paragon of sincerity.</p><p>And then she realizes that he had just asked if they were friends. The contemplative lilt at the end of his sentence makes her want to melt into a puddle. That question—as if he <em>wants</em> to be friends but is too shy to assume anything about their interactions.</p><p>Too, too charming. Itachi is extremely dangerous, and Mirai is dreadfully aware that she is playing herself ruthlessly. Everything he says is gasoline to the fires of her helpless daydreams and over-romanticized crush. Itachi must have no idea that his charm is deadly to idiots like herself. Of course not—he’s just being nice.</p><p>“Ah yes. Eggs. Of course I’d love some if you have any to spare. And of course we’re friends. If you want to be. If you’d like, I mean. I didn’t mean to sound cold.”</p><p>Her words come out awkward and she cringes. How she wishes she could fold in on herself and disappear. Shrink into nothingness. She doesn’t see the relief settle back into Itachi’s shoulders as she resumes attacking the register.</p><p>“I’d like that. I’ll bring you some eggs next time,” Itachi promises.</p><p><em>Please don’t sound so earnest. Please don’t make promises; you’re going to make me excited. </em> </p><p>Mirai prays that she might wake up tomorrow and any attraction to Itachi will have disappeared. Crushes just end like that sometimes. She could pray. In fact, it is probably the only thing she can do now.</p><p>They exchange farewells, and she holds her breath as she watches the Uchiha brothers exit the shop.</p><p>Why does every interaction with Itachi feel simultaneously like ecstasy and death? And how the fuck is he so charming? His insane reflexes, his nimble movements, his deep eyes, his small smiles. She’s done for; she’s sure of it.</p><p>“I hate Itachi Uchiha,” she declares solemnly as she glares at Menma, the small bamboo plant by the register.</p><p>And then she proceeds to replay every second of their interactions from today on loop. His hand on hers as they stood side by side. The glasses sliding onto her face. The eggs. The fucking eggs.</p><p>“I hate Itachi Uchiha.”</p><p>If plants could laugh, surely all the inhabitants of her shop would be howling at her right now.</p><p> </p>
<h1 class="char Zyyy U2698">⚘</h1><p> </p><p>“Why do you only have one plant? I thought you were going to start a garden.”</p><p>Itachi just pokes Sasuke’s forehead, eliciting a familiar scowl from the younger brother.</p><p>“I told you, you didn’t have to come, Sasuke.”</p><p>Sasuke mutters something under his breath, and then realizes Itachi is whistling again. Quietly, but it’s still a sign that he’s in a pretty good mood. He also realizes they’re going in the opposite direction of the compound.</p><p>“Hey, home’s the other way. Watch where you’re going,” Sasuke bumps Itachi’s shoulder with his own.</p><p>His brother shifts, turning the plant in his arms away from Sasuke. Was he <em>shielding </em>the plant? Itachi could be oddly possessive about his things sometimes.</p><p>“Yes, Sasuke. I know. Also, be careful.”</p><p>“Does that one have a name yet?” Sasuke sneers. </p><p>His older brother sighs softly, “Yes.”</p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>“Fugaku.”</p><p>“Our father is a <em>flower?” </em></p><p>“The amaryllis symbolizes pride, I thought it was fitting.”</p><p>Sasuke opens his mouth to retort smartly, but finds himself at a loss for words. It <em>is </em>fitting.</p><p>“Tch.”</p><p>Itachi doesn’t say anything, but Sasuke doesn’t miss the sliver of a smile that dances across his brother’s lips.</p><p>“So where are you going now, Itachi?”</p><p>“The optometrist.”</p><p>“The eye doctor? <em>Why?” </em>Sasuke’s incredulity makes Itachi furrow his brows.</p><p>His younger brother could be very annoying sometimes. This was one of those times. He wanted to think about Mirai in peace and quiet. She pulled off her large, clear glasses very well. Itachi wonders what type of frames would look best on him.</p><p>“Because I need glasses.”</p><p>“<em>What? </em>How did you even-”</p><p>“Mirai figured it out earlier.”</p><p>“Who is Mirai?” Sasuke is quite exasperated, and Itachi makes a disappointed click with his tongue.</p><p> “You really don’t pay attention to anyone other than Naruto.”</p><p>“That’s not true!”</p><p>Itachi doesn’t grace the protest with a reply, so Sasuke presses further.</p><p>“Who is she? And how does she know that you need glasses-”</p><p>“The owner of the plant shop. She’s my friend,” Itachi states, sounding oddly pleased with himself.</p><p>Sasuke rolls his eyes, then realizes what Itachi just said. His brother has never referred to anyone as his friend. Maybe Kisame, but that shark man was irrelevant.</p><p>He hadn’t realized that Itachi was getting along well with the shopkeeper—or was he?</p><p>“Tch. She an annoying fangirl or something?”</p><p>“No. <em>I</em> asked her if we were friends.”</p><p>Why Itachi would ever do that was beyond Sasuke. Maybe his brother was going crazy. He would interrogate Itachi further, but his brother’s brief replies would get them nowhere. Itachi didn’t lie (anymore), but he was frustratingly mysterious sometimes. This was only frustrating because of all the time Sasuke spent with Naruto, who endlessly overshared and was an open book. Headaches on opposite ends of the spectrum, that’s what Itachi and Naruto were.</p><p>Sasuke briefly wonders if plant shop girl knows who Itachi likes. If they’re friends, surely she would know.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>this fic has been interesting to write because it's liberating/assuring for me to know it's relatively short. at the same time, idk exactly where it's going and what i'm doing (no surprise). </p><p>also this ch was delayed courtesy of noblesse...started and finished the manhwa in under 48 hrs and spent like 3x as long trying to acclimate myself to THAT. what can i say...reticent, black-haired, red-eyed men who bear incredibly heavy burdens of the world on their shoulders... *swoons* </p><p>thank you again for your kind words, as well.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. aloe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this chapter is so long and so horribly disjointed.</p><p>tldr; eggs, Itachi buys 214 grief plants, glasses, dinner, sexiling, balcony, half-assed blanket-sharing... ft. my weird fixation on the scents of those you're attracted to &amp; the most egregious abuse of em dashes you have ever seen.</p><p>"ailleurs" by Mounika.</p><p>"Tokyo Drifting" by Glass Animals ft. Denzel Curry<br/>"ONCE UPON A TIME" by IDK ft. Denzel Curry<br/>"Knotty Head" by Denzel Curry<br/>"Such a Whore" by Jvla </p><p>(I can't remember the one song that I wrote this chapter to...except for the fact that it was quite upbeat and not at all relevant to the mood inside Ch. 3's Konoha...but i think it was one of the last four songs or a combination of all of those)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The tune stuck in her head is something annoying—quite embarrassing, really. It’s a popular song at the moment. The lyrics are about clichéd love and sappy feelings, as these songs typically are.</p><p>Mirai’s not in love.</p><p>She knows this.</p><p>But it’s undeniable how these past few days, her heart beats a bit quicker the minute she opens her eyes. The sunlight pouring through her windows every morning seems a smidge brighter, and she finds herself smiling for seemingly no reason. Sometimes it’s because she’s daydreaming of a certain long, black-haired retired ninja; but sometimes it truly is for absolutely no reason.</p><p>She doesn’t know how long it’s going to last, but she enjoys the contractual giddiness and dopamine that comes with her secret crush on Itachi Uchiha.</p><p>Moments like these are especially blissful: when she’s alone in the shop, walking the streets, or at home. Completely alone, no one around to see her and free to grin widely (she can’t help it) and bite her lip in self-embarrassment as she thinks about the way Itachi’s eyes glint when he smiles. Sometimes, Mirai shivers when she replays the memory of his hand over hers. That incident with the fallen pothos propagations.</p><p>Only alone can she shut her eyes tightly, trying to remember precisely how warm his hand was. And exactly how did his fingers feel like? Were they knuckled and bony, or surprisingly tender for a ninja? She couldn’t really recall now. What would it feel like if they nestled their palms together? Would she feel callouses or something smooth? These meditations on Itachi only drew Mirai further into her pathetic crush on Konoha’s most furtive and underrated eligible bachelor.</p><p>Her eyes are shut tightly as she tries to recreate one of their interactions in her mind, trying to pick out the right details from a nebulous jumble of thoughts, images, and feelings that revolve around <em>him</em>.</p><p>Someone clears their throat behind her, and Mirai lurches forward by surprise. She steadies herself in time, otherwise she would have fell onto an innocent calathea.</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>,” Mirai curses softly under her breath, and the customer’s low chuckle sends goosebumps skidding across the back of her neck, down her spine.</p><p>She gets to her feet so fast her knees emit a stale popping noise—embarrassing, because she’s only twenty-six—which she tries to hide with a cough. Her vision becomes a bit hazy as she’s caught in a momentary spell of lightheadedness and it really, really doesn’t help that the man standing in front of her is much more inhumanly beautiful today.</p><p>Itachi smiles gently and greets her with a polite “Morning, Mirai.”</p><p>She tries not to stare at the low collar of his shirt. Mirai forces herself to cursorily scan that expanse of skin and neck and collarbones, to only spare a second at his stupid, loose-fitting white t-shirt. A man in a white t-shirt and sweatshorts should not be able to reduce her to a hysterical schoolgirl, but here she is, barely holding it together.</p><p>He just looks so comfortable and earnest and at ease. Her heart <em>sings</em> at the sight of Itachi in casual clothing, his hair gathered in a low ponytail with several loose strands artfully coming undone.</p><p>Mirai wrestles with whether or not she should tell him he looks nice today—it’s just a white t-shirt, so maybe it will be too obvious that she has a crush on him if she makes a comment. At the same time, he needs to know that he looks good, he just has to. Has anyone told him yet?</p><p>She wants to compliment him, to offer him something earnest and vulnerable from herself without requiring anything from Itachi in return. A compliment is simple, unlike asking someone out or confessing. But it’s still frightening.</p><p>Itachi thinks Mirai looks troubled. Her lips are pursed together in a somewhat tight line, her brows slightly furrowed in intense concentration. He’s noticed her nose scrunches when she does this, and he tries to regulate his pulse before his subconscious can betray him and dive into the rabbit hole that is thinking-about-how-cute-Mirai’s-nose-and-everything-about-her-is.</p><p>“Itachi!” Mirai greets him with much more excitement than he could ever hope for, “Good morning!”</p><p>Even if he can’t show it, he’s pleased at how her tone indicates she is happy to see him. Itachi extends the bag he’s holding out to her.</p><p>“These are for you,” he murmurs, “Hopefully none of them broke.”</p><p>Of course nothing’s broken, because he would never give Mirai a broken egg. But these types of statements help him appear a bit more human, he thinks, to show that he could <em>theoretically</em> be capable of breaking eggs while walking. Normal people broke eggs carelessly a lot.</p><p>Mirai’s eyes widen a bit and she takes the bag, curiously peering in to see twelve eggs in a cardboard box. White, pale green, and brown with dark speckles swaddled in paper napkins. She has never felt so smitten about chicken eggs.</p><p>“Oh, they look beautiful,” she gushes, hoping her sincerity has translated appropriately, “Thank you, Itachi.”</p><p>He nods amicably and Mirai catalogs his arms. This is the first time he’s shown his arms, she thinks. Suddenly she can’t remember what Itachi had been wearing during the other times he’d been in the shop.</p><p>His arms are long and Mirai swallows discreetly as possible as she registers the slight veins on the back of his hand and his forearms.</p><p>Itachi Uchiha could be described, by a rash onlooker, as lanky. But lanky seemed too blunt a word for a man who carried his body around so lightly and gracefully. Maybe lean was more fitting, or lithe. He did move sort of like a cat or weasel, smooth but without the ominosity and outward threat that deemed other skilled ninjas ‘snakelike.’</p><p>Her brain jumps back to Itachi’s arms for a few seconds, helplessly hooked on him as he casually slips his hands into the pockets of his shorts. How can he look so damn cool? How dare he put his hands in his pockets in her shop? Then she realizes he might be here for business again.</p><p>“Are you here for more plants?” Mirai blurts out.</p><p>Itachi raises an eyebrow, and Mirai prepares herself for whatever clever quip he might send her way.</p><p>“Do you always assume I’m here for transactional interactions?”</p><p>She’s flustered. It’s a plant shop; it’s not rude of her to assume everyone who walks in is here for a transaction—they’re <em>customers</em>. But is Itachi implying he’s hurt that she thinks of him as a mere customer? What is he here for, if not to buy plants? Her mouth opens but no words come out.</p><p>Instead of looking displeased, Itachi appears humored. Is he <em>flirting</em> with her? Mirai’s heart kicks into overdrive as she struggles to make sense of the situation, overanalyzing his words.</p><p>“I was kidding,” Itachi murmured, “I’m looking for a lot of plants today.”</p><p>Mirai dives eagerly into the conversation, anxious to ignore the transactional statement and its implications, “What kind?”</p><p>“I don’t know,” his answer is not rude, but earnest and almost sheepish.</p><p>“You don’t know?”</p><p>“Just…a lot. Plants that are small, or start off pretty small?”</p><p><br/>
“I guess we could take a look at the succulents?” Mirai offers.</p><p>Itachi nods, following after her as she darts off into the succulent room.</p><p>He wonders how long the blush will stay on her face, then frowns when he realizes his palms have become a bit clammy in his pockets. Itachi Uchiha never had sweaty palms. He did not get nervous. It must have been the warm weather, he reasoned; after all, it was warm enough for him to wear a t-shirt and shorts out today.</p><p>In the succulent room are hundreds of little plants on a large tabletop. The larger ones are backed up against the edge of the walls. Mirai explains to Itachi the plants are organized by those with needles on the left side, sharp succulents like aloes on the upper right side of the room, and the safe-to-touch plants on the lower right. Itachi doesn’t think he should buy cacti to symbolize the dead Uchiha children, so he decides to ignore the left side of the room.</p><p>His eyes catch on a group of small plants—aloe vera, his mind registers belatedly—gathered together. They’re much smaller than the aloe vera he’s accustomed to seeing around the village; each one of these plants is barely the size of half his palm.</p><p>“Those aloe vera are very small,” he muses aloud.</p><p>Mirai was unsure why aloe vera of all plants had caught Itachi’s attention. They were pretty plain and normal-looking plants. Easy to overlook, despite their amazing uses for skincare and healing.</p><p>“They’re babies,” Mirai answered, “They can grow quite large though. Just slowly.”</p><p>Then she realizes that was exactly what Itachi had said he wanted earlier. Did he even need her guidance around the shop?</p><p>“What do aloe vera mean?” Itachi asks.</p><p>She’s taken aback by the look of patient and polite curiosity on his face; he’s imploring her for information. As if she’s some plant encyclopedia, a trusted source on all things green and leafy. The respect is too much for her.</p><p>“Mean?” Mirai echoes dumbly.</p><p>She doesn’t know much about plant names and etymology or Latin. Species names and all that stuff flew over her head—she was a tactile and visual learner.</p><p>“You seem to know a lot about what plants mean and symbolize. I was just wondering if maybe the aloe vera represents something too,” Itachi elaborates meekly.</p><p>Mirai swears under her breath. He almost looks embarassed to be inquiring about the symbolism of aloe vera, as if he was afraid she’d make fun of him. Instead, his interest in the plant only makes Mirai much more interested in <em>him</em>.</p><p>“Ah w-well,” she stammers, “obviously, healing. Because aloe vera is often used on the skin for sunburns and to heal without leaving scars. Or to help avoid lasting scars, really. But an older meaning of the plant is also tied to grief. Not sure why, but yeah. Grief.”</p><p>Itachi stills at the word, and Mirai wonders if she said something wrong. Instead, when he turns back to her he is smiling. It’s a bittersweet smile—the sadness only barely evident as a gleam in his dark eyes—and he nods.</p><p>“I think I will be taking the aloe vera today then,” he murmurs, “If you can sell me a lot.”</p><p>Mirai wonders why Itachi is buying aloe vera for grief—unless his slight change in body language had only been coincidentally timed with her mention of grief—and why he needs a lot. How much is ‘a lot’ of aloe vera anyways?</p><p>“Two-hundred and fourteen.”</p><p>Mirai does not let her jaw drop. Instead, her eyebrows only raise a bit before she schools her features back into something professional.</p><p>“I have eighty-nine in stock right now. You can take them all now and wait for Monday when the next shipment comes in. Or you can wait to pick them all up on Monday.”</p><p>Itachi seems to breathe a sigh of relief when she doesn’t press him on exactly why he needs two-hundred and fourteen aloe vera plants. Instead, they discuss how he’ll transport them—she’s got a large wagon she can lend him and he says he can utilize clones if necessary—and if it’s alright for her to sell him all her aloe vera plants in stock—she insists it’s more than fine.</p><p>He’s also not concerned about the specific variety of aloe vera, even though Mirai makes sure to communicate that there are differences in how they grow, look, and taste. As she’s ringing him up, she doesn’t miss the fond look that Itachi shoots toward the little aloe vera plants packed neatly in the wagon.</p><p>This man—this man who carries the reputation of being one of the world’s most fearsome and laconic ninjas—is going to be pulling a large wagon filled with baby aloe vera plants across the village today. In his stupid white t-shirt and sweatshorts. She has no doubt he’ll be walking slowly and carefully too, to avoid jostling the plants around.</p><p>As he exits the shop, the wagon creaking softly behind him, Mirai can’t help but wonder why Itachi just bought two-hundred and fourteen grief plants. Is it an old lover? A current lover? A breakup? A strained relationship? <em>Two-hundred and fourteen lovers?</em> Perhaps he is breaking up with many, many lovers. Or maybe someone had broken his heart two-hundred and fourteen times. No, maybe he had just been dumped by someone and their relationship had lasted two-hundred and fourteen days. Who in their right mind would dump Itachi Uchiha?</p><p>Her mind was spinning with theories, each crazier than the last—but at the same time, not as crazy as the fact that Itachi Uchiha was now a frequent customer at her shop—and she barely realized she had spent the majority of the day fixated on the older Uchiha and his aloe vera purchase.</p><p>When the doorbell rang, she glanced instinctively at the clock before the customer and was shocked to find that it was only fifteen minutes until closing.</p><p>“Busy day, Mirai?” Mr. Oto called out.</p><p>He was her optometrist and actually worked just a couple shops down.</p><p>“Mr. Oto! Did you kill another rubber plant in your office again?”</p><p>The elderly man chuckled and glanced at the ground sheepishly. Mirai noticed a pair of glasses in his hand and frowned.</p><p>“No comment on the rubber plant. I am actually here…to ask a favor.”</p><p>“A favor?”</p><p>Mirai is curious, but also apprehensive, as one usually becomes when a favor is asked so vaguely.</p><p>“I noticed…Itachi Uchiha coming out of your shop earlier. Is he a regular customer?”</p><p>She struggles not to smile too broadly at the fact that she could indeed call Itachi a regular customer, if she wanted.</p><p>“You could say so,” Mirai fights to squash the blush spreading across her cheeks, “Oh! I actually recommended him to your shop the other day. It seems he’s gone a couple years without glasses, but could use some.”</p><p>“Ah yes, about that,” Mr. Oto replies in a rush, “He did come in. To my shop, I mean. And I made him some glasses—and I was going to give them to him earlier when I saw him leaving your shop—I was out on a break, you see—but he seemed to have his hands full, and you know. He is a busy man, I didn’t want to bother him. Would you mind handing off his glasses to him the next time you see Itachi?”</p><p>The smile vanishes off Mirai’s face as she registers the fear underlying Mr. Oto’s words. Perhaps Itachi had looked busy, pulling a wagon full of aloe vera. But what is undeniable is that Mr. Oto is not afraid of inconveniencing Itachi. The optometrist is afraid of Itachi Uchiha himself.</p><p>The man is fidgeting with his pants now as Mirai remains silent. She’s brimming with anger, feeling inexplicably betrayed at the realization that her optometrist is one of those villagers who hold Itachi in contempt. Who <em>fears</em> Itachi Uchiha, and would rather avoid him instead of trying to even look his way. Horrible scenarios erupt in her mind as she wonders if Mr. Oto had treated Itachi badly during the check-up.</p><p>“Did you try to turn him away when he first came to your office?” Mirai asks him accusingly.</p><p>Mr. Oto looks completely taken aback, his sheepishness now bleeding into trepidation as he realizes that Mirai has caught on and is upset.</p><p>“W-what? No, of course not!”</p><p>Mirai grits her teeth together, hard, so that Mr. Oto can see the firmness protruding from her jaw.</p><p>“Give me the glasses,” she says curtly, and Mr. Oto hands them over carefully.</p><p>They make a soft clink as he places them on the counter, basic black frames. She does not miss the fact that there is no glasses case.</p><p>The blood rushing through her ears makes it hard to concentrate, and she just tries to keep her eyes on the frames, imagining how they’ll look on Itachi. Anything to not look at Mr. Oto, who is nervously babbling nonsense to try to defend himself.</p><p>“Ah, yes. I could also use another plant for the office—you know we get so many compliments from clients about the plants in our office. And we always tell them, go to Mirai’s shop! She’s got the best plants in Konoha!” Mr. Oto chuckles.</p><p>As if she would be swayed by a cheap compliment.</p><p>Instead, Mirai coldly tells him that her shop is closed for the day. Mr. Oto gets the message and nearly runs out of the shop, apologizing for overstaying and muttering something about leaving patients waiting back at his own shop.</p><p>She does not acknowledge his departure as her nails dig into her palms, fists heavy with disappointment and leaden injustice. Her heart feels even heavier. She wishes she had punched Mr. Oto, or at least screamed at him. Berated him for being afraid and ignorant, so woefully and outrageously <em>ignorant</em>.</p><p>Ignorant of the sacrifices Itachi had made his entire life, of Konoha’s debt to Itachi and the village’s role in destroying the entire Uchiha Clan. Ignorant of how Itachi protected Konoha even as a missing-nin, an Akatsuki member, a man on the brink of death. Ignorant of how Itachi would never even ask for acceptance from the villagers, only to live in peace for the rest of his days on the outskirts of a village that owed him. A village where many still feared and loathed him, despite the fact that everyone now knew the reasons why he had done all he did.</p><p>It was Danzo and the past leadership they should all criticize, but those names were hardly ever muttered on the streets. Instead, Itachi’s name floated around, carrying with it a list of the man’s crimes and all the blood on his hands. At night, people clicked their tongues at the idea of a mass murderer living amongst them in Konoha; the next morning, they sent their kids off to the ninja academy without blinking. All in the name of <em>protecting</em> Konoha, while they frowned every time the name Itachi Uchiha came up in conversation.</p><p>The anger coursed through her like thick adrenaline, and Mirai became increasingly furious at her own self for not properly chewing Mr. Oto out while he was here. She had just been so shocked, but that was no excuse.</p><p>Fumbling with erratic energy, she locked up the shop and decided that she would find a case for the glasses before handing them over to Itachi. Mirai had clipped the glasses onto the front of her shirt so that they would not get crushed or dirty in her hands as she wandered through town.</p><p>The first problem—she was not exactly sure where she could find glasses cases asides from Mr. Oto’s shop. The second problem was her anger was so strong she could barely pay attention to anything or anyone around her, which is why she leaped when someone poked her in the back.</p><p>“Miraiiiii!” a loud voice declared in her ear, and she scowled.</p><p>Then she saw it was someone who, although sometimes annoying, was not deserving of her wrath. But Naruto was also accompanied by a grumpy-looking Sasuke, who promptly reminded her of Itachi, and the anger came rushing back.</p><p>“Huh, why do you have two glasses?” Naruto gaped, glancing at the frames on her face and the ones hanging from her shirt collar.</p><p>“These,” Mirai gestures to the black frames, “aren’t mine, they’re Itachi’s.”</p><p>The eyebrow raises from both men made her immediately regret her lack of tactfulness.</p><p>“Why do you have Itachi’s glasses?” Sasuke asks in an accusatory tone.</p><p>“Because the optometrist is a fucking piece of work!” Mirai snaps, and then spills out all her rage as she rants, non-stop.</p><p>When she’s done, Naruto looks troubled and Sasuke looks murderous. Which was just Sasuke’s usual self with a bit more edge to his glare.</p><p>“Who…is this…optometrist,” Sasuke grinds out, “I need to have a few…words with him.”</p><p>Mirai is about to speak when Naruto slaps a hand over her mouth and conjures another clone to restrain a restless Sasuke.</p><p>“Ahh, Sasuke. The poor optometrist cannot handle both you and Mirai! You know you are a very powerful ninja and I mean, Mirai is probably going to send venus flytraps to his house to eat him alive or something.”</p><p>Naruto chuckles awkwardly, but Sasuke seems to be placated as the clone whispers something in his ear. When Sasuke’s shoulders finally untense, the clone disappears with a soft ‘pop’ and the real Naruto removes his hand from Mirai’s mouth.</p><p>“That’s cool you’re looking for a case though. Maybe we can help you?” Naruto asks cheerfully as his boyfriend ‘hmphs’ behind him.</p><p>“I'm only letting this go because Itachi wouldn't want us to make a fuss over anything to do with him,” Sasuke says to no one in particular, "How do you even know her anyway, idiot?"</p><p>“Mirai is my friend! She has a really cool garden shop, y’know. You should come by sometime and maybe get more plants so Duckbutt is less lonely, you jerk.”</p><p>Sasuke rolls his eyes, “Idiot, where do you think the cactus came from?”</p><p>Naruto’s eyes widen comically, but Mirai interrupts them.</p><p>“Duckbutt?”</p><p>Sasuke glowers and is silent while Naruto laughs good-naturedly.</p><p>“It’s the name of Sasuke’s cactus. But hey, I didn’t know you guys were friends already!”</p><p>Mirai wants to correct him, because she can’t imagine Sasuke thinks of her as a friend—or ever will, really. But Sasuke only rolls his eyes again, so she decides not to address the friend statement. Could the younger Uchiha possibly tolerate her?</p><p>She settles for “Itachi visits the shop often, and sometimes with Sasuke,” which seems to delight Naruto inexplicably.</p><p>“So you’re the new friend Itachi made! He’s got a very cool garden started up in the compound, and I was wondering where he was getting the plants from.”</p><p>Naruto babbles on as they weave through the busy streets, Sasuke silent and Mirai throwing in a comment here and there. They find a case for Itachi at one of the street vendors. It’s a slim grey case that’s simple but sturdy. The material is something metallic so it won’t get scratched easily.</p><p>Sasuke’s eyes do not miss the way Mirai carefully places the glasses inside the case. His brows wrinkle with confusion, trying to place his finger on what exactly he is feeling about her.</p><p>“I can take the glasses back to Itachi,” he says, “you don’t need to do that.”</p><p>Mirai is disappointed and also unaware that Naruto catches the brief, crestfallen look that flashes across her face.</p><p>“Nonsense!” the blonde interjects, “We can all go back to the compound together! It’ll be like a surprise party for Itachi’s new glasses. I’m sure he’ll be happy to see Mirai too, since he sees us every day. Especially your ugly face, Sasuke.”</p><p>“Idiot, you can’t just invite people over to the house like that. You don’t even live there,” Sasuke scowls, but the hand he had extended for the glasses is now tucked back into his pocket.</p><p>“Ah, but your house is basically my house…”</p><p>“Already thinking all of Konoha is yours before you’re even Hokage, huh?”</p><p>Naruto smirks gleefully, “Not all of Konoha, just you, heehee.”</p><p>Sasuke looms over Naruto and Mirai nervously watches the scene unfolding in front of her. She wonders if they’ll brawl in the middle of the street, but Sasuke pulls back momentarily and rolls his eyes again. Mirai wonders if his eyeballs are loose, with all that rolling they do.</p><p>“You’re lucky,” Sasuke mutters to Naruto, “that everyone loves you and I have enough self-control to not pummel you in front of all of your adoring fans here.”</p><p>The younger Uchiha stalks off, in the direction of the Uchiha Compound, Mirai belatedly realizes. Naruto rubs his head and shoots Mirai a sheepish glance when he realizes she’s still standing there.</p><p>“I didn’t think Sasuke cared about what other people thought,” she mused.</p><p>“Ah,” Naruto hesitates, “Most of the time he still doesn’t. But he’s been trying his best even when I push him, because he doesn’t want it to negatively affect me running for Hokage. He’s afraid some people will give me a hard time because they can’t accept him. Although if they can’t accept that I love Sasuke, then they’re also not accepting me as a person.”</p><p>Naruto emphasizes the concluding sentiment by jabbing a thumb proudly toward his chest, and Mirai snorts.</p><p>“Ah, so Sasuke and you are absolute saps.”</p><p>“Hey, Mirai! If you’re mean to me I can retract the invitation to dinner at the Uchihas! I’m going to basically be an Uchiha soon anyways, after Sasuke and I are married!”</p><p>She laughs as they run after Sasuke’s retreating form.</p><p> </p>
<h1 class="char Zyyy U2698">⚘</h1><p> </p><p>Itachi has just laid his apron back onto the hook in the kitchen when he registers the familiar chakra signatures arriving. As he makes his way to the table where the dishes are already laid out, Itachi freezes when he detects a third, fainter chakra.</p><p>What is Mirai doing in the compound?</p><p>He has committed this chakra signature—no, not even signature, since she doesn’t consciously expel one…but her chakra presence, her being—to memory and immediately recognizes it. Energy, characteristic jutsus, and an evaluative review of personal strength are what usually come to mind when he detects a person’s chakra.</p><p>But the only thing Itachi thinks of when processing Mirai’s chakra is her hands. Her soft, cool hands. And a scent that he has grown to link with her name: the sweet smell of fresh leaves in her shop: not cloyingly sweet, but the way water tasted sweet on rare occasions.</p><p>Naruto’s loud voice echoing through the compound snaps Itachi out of his reverie and the Uchiha rushes to the kitchen to prepare another spot for Mirai at the table. How overly confident of him to assume she’s here for dinner, but perhaps, just <em>maybe</em>, she’ll be joining them.</p><p>He glances worriedly at the dishes he’s prepared—nothing interesting at all, because he had only been expecting Sasuke and Naruto, not a guest, and not <em>her,</em> at that—and wonders if there will be enough. Will she like his cooking? Will she pretend it’s okay and endure it while fighting to keep a smile on her face?</p><p>Itachi could not fathom dealing with the knowledge that he had cooked subpar food for Mirai. Cooking was personal. He thought of it as a way of expressing oneself, and to offer a meal to someone was like baring a sliver of your soul to them. He hadn’t even made this meal exclusively for Mirai, but he was horribly anxious.</p><p>Then the idea of someday cooking just for Mirai made his knees weak.</p><p>He dug his nails into his thighs briefly, the blip of pain bringing him back to his senses. Mirai coming to the house was unexpected, but he could silently strategize during dinner. Improvising was a part of life after all, especially as a ninja.</p><p>But there was still the matter of his appearance. He was wearing the same outfit she’d seen him in this morning, except now he was quite a bit sweaty and worn out. Cooking in the kitchen had no doubt added some thin sheen of moisture from all the oils and heat. The more he thought about it, the more his shirt seemed to stick to his body.</p><p>Itachi is about to run to his room to change when one of his brother’s clones pops up in front of him.</p><p>“Naruto invited Mirai to dinner. I know you’re particular about etiquette and would want to set up a place for her to pretend you already knew she was coming or whatever.”</p><p>After delivering the message, the clone is about to disappear when its eyes fall upon the fourth place already set up at the table.</p><p>“Hmph, of course you already knew. Why did I even bother.”</p><p>The clone pops, and Itachi is frozen in place now that it’s confirmed Mirai is indeed staying for dinner. Before he can do anything, the door bangs opens and Naruto declares they have a surprise for Itachi.</p><p>The blonde pushes Mirai forward, and Itachi thinks it’s a very good surprise.</p><p>The girl blushes, and he realizes he’s said that aloud.</p><p>“You’re very gracious, but this is the surprise actually,” Mirai murmurs, handing him something she had been hiding behind her back.</p><p>It’s a glasses case, he realizes. They all shuffle into their seats, Mirai slower than the rest as she wonders if her presence is really appreciated or not. There’s a fourth seat, set for her…and she doesn’t know what to make of this. Sasuke still looks disinterested while Itachi is pretending like her arrival isn’t unexpected at all. And then there is Naruto, radiating an immense amount of excitement.</p><p>They all wait with bated breath as Itachi opens up the case, smiling softly at the glasses inside.</p><p>“Well, put it on!” Naruto whines.</p><p>Mirai dreads the worst. Men with glasses were not something to take lightly. Especially men who were already drop-dead gorgeous without glasses to begin with.</p><p>The older Uchiha slowly folds out the frames and slides them onto his face. Mirai feels like she’s been punched in the stomach.</p><p>“Whoaaaa,” Naruto drawls.</p><p>Even Sasuke offers a “Tch. Not bad.”</p><p>Itachi glances at Mirai and she forces herself not to look away, even though his gaze with the new glasses is reducing her to a pile of nerves.</p><p>“What do you think, Mirai?” Itachi asks innocently.</p><p>“They look very nice on you, Itachi,” Mirai blurts out, a bit more vehemently than she had intended.</p><p>But Itachi smiles shyly, shaking his head as Naruto starts showering him with compliments.</p><p>As the dinner progresses, the awkwardness fades much to the help of Naruto’s incessant chattering and merciless energy. Even Sasuke becomes less intimidating and cold in a couple of minutes, and Mirai has to keep pinching herself to make sure this is really happening.</p><p>They’re just sitting around, chatting like close friends when she realizes she may have overstayed her welcome. The dessert—a melon cheesecake she’d bought in town earlier—was already long gone, and it was quite dark outside.</p><p>“I can wash the dishes before I go,” Mirai offers, gathering the empty plates and utensils.</p><p>“There’s no need,” Itachi protests in a soft but insistent tone.</p><p>“You can both wash the dishes together!” Naruto offers, “Sasuke and I will wipe down the table.”</p><p><em>This is starting to look like a cliché movie,</em> Mirai thinks as she follows Itachi to the kitchen.</p><p>When the two are out of sight and earshot, Sasuke kicks Naruto under the table.</p><p>“What are you up to, idiot? Why’d you tell Itachi to wash the dishes with her?”</p><p>“Sasuke, you jerk, that hurt!” Naruto hissed, “Can’t you see they’re in looooove with each other?”</p><p>Sasuke chokes on his water.</p><p>“You really didn’t know,” Naruto mused, “And you call <em>me</em> the idiot.”</p><p>The younger Uchiha opens his mouth to protest, but nothing comes out. Because his brain is making the connections now, all the signs he’d failed to see for the past few days. All the things Itachi had said, the visits to the shop. The look on Mirai’s face when Itachi had put on his glasses. All the glances his brother had sneaked at Mirai during dinner, watching her eat and politely inquiring what she thought of the food.</p><p>Sasuke knew Naruto was right, but he was still failing to comprehend that his brother did indeed have a crush. Who was currently in their house right this minute.</p><p>“So, what do we do,” Sasuke whispers, “about this.”</p><p>“Isn’t it so cute?” Naruto grins gleefully, “They’ll be such a cute couple.”</p><p>“She probably doesn’t know he’s buying plants to reconstruct our dead clan,” Sasuke thinks aloud, “This is so fucked up.”</p><p>“We’re all fucked up,” Naruto says cheerily, “And I’m sure she’ll understand. But for now, we need to figure out how to get them to spend more time together. We can’t have them just meeting at the shop.”</p><p>“We can’t,” Sasuke begrudgingly agrees, shivering at whatever Itachi might think constitutes appropriate flirting—Itachi was probably<em> courting,</em> for fucks sake, “But how? She said she’s going home after washing the dishes.”</p><p>“Leave it to me, Sasuke.”</p><p>And Sasuke is very afraid, but nods anyway. His brother needs a life.</p><p> </p>
<h1 class="char Zyyy U2698">⚘</h1><p> </p><p>Mirai scrubs down the last plate, soaks and wrings out the sponge, and shakes her hands off lightly in the sink. Itachi, who had been rinsing all the things she’d cleaned, turns off the faucet. They had not made much conversation in the past few minutes washing the dishes, but it had not been horribly awkward.</p><p>There was a certain peacefulness to standing side by side with Itachi and washing the dishes, a sort of beautiful magic to that little pocket of intimacy in the night. Now it was over and she would be heading home.</p><p>“Thank you for cooking,” she tells him again, “I’m sorry for showing up unannounced—”</p><p>“Don’t be,” Itachi presses gently, and she breaks eye contact because the earnestness in his eyes makes her want to cry.</p><p>“Yo, Itachi,” Sasuke calls out.</p><p>Mirai and Itachi turn to see Sasuke standing in the kitchen doorway.</p><p>“It’s pretty dark outside. Walk Mirai home later.”</p><p>A thousand worms are wriggling inside of Mirai’s stomach. It’s definitely not necessary for Itachi to walk her home; at the same time, she selfishly <em>wants</em>.</p><p>“Of course,” Itachi replies without missing a beat, “I’m not rude like you.”</p><p>Sasuke glares, mutters some sort of farewell to Mirai, then walks away.</p><p>“You really don’t have to,” Mirai murmurs softly as they head for the door.</p><p>“I’d like to, if you don’t mind some company for the way back,” Itachi counters.</p><p>Of course he’d make it sound as if she was granting him a favor, not the other way around. And of course she can’t say no to Itachi.</p><p>“Aaaactually…” a voice calls out before they exit, “Please take your time, Itachi!”</p><p>It’s Naruto, looking sheepish.</p><p>“Sasuke and I er…we…”</p><p>“I’ll walk back extra slow,” Itachi states, “Although both of you are loud even when I am in the house.”</p><p>Sasuke is standing behind Naruto in the doorway, and the younger Uchiha has a peculiar mix of embarrassment and murder strewn across his face. Mirai didn’t even know Sasuke could turn that red.</p><p>“Are you getting sexiled?” Mirai whispers—poorly, because Sasuke resembles a ripe tomato now.</p><p>“It seems so,” Itachi murmurs, “it happens.”</p><p>“Is there anywhere you can stay the night?”</p><p>Itachi gives her that blank, owlish look of his, and she realizes he doesn’t. She doesn’t want to know what he does when Naruto and Sasuke fuck in the house—why couldn’t they do it at Naruto’s place?—and tries to push away images of a forlorn, sexiled Itachi wandering Konoha at night.</p><p>Unfortunately, those images make a deep sadness well up inside of her and she doesn’t even think as she blurts out, “You can stay at my place if you need somewhere to crash tonight.”</p><p>Itachi doesn’t say anything, and she knows it’s doomed. He has to know she’s got a crush on him now; he’ll turn her down and she’ll walk home in shame.</p><p>A minute passes by in silence. Then Itachi nods.</p><p>“If it’s not inconvenient for you, I’ll take you up on that offer.”</p><p>Mirai nods, feeling faint. Nothing makes sense and she’s not sure if she’s even entirely in control of her own body. What could have possibly possessed her to invite Itachi to stay the night?</p><p>“Wonderful! Thank you, Mirai, we owe you one!” Naruto waves wildly before shutting the door, Itachi and Mirai still frozen a couple feet away from the house.</p><p>Yelling and cursing erupts from inside the house, and it’s hard to tell who started the fighting. Probably Sasuke, Itachi surmises.</p><p>“Ah, well. I guess we should go,” Mirai says nervously, her voice rising when she notices Itachi stepping closer to her.</p><p>As they leave the compound, she realizes there’s a less than a foot of space between them. The distance is appropriate and not something that should give her angina, but her heart is still hammering away in her chest.</p><p>The walk back to her apartment is mostly silent, even more quiet than the time they’d spent doing the dishes. And she is much, much more nervous. Her skin feels electric, not in a good way but as if her pulse is overriding everything. It’s all she can feel, the pulse in the side of her neck, in her wrist, in her chest. <em>Boomboom, boom, boomboom, boom.</em> She’s forgotten how to breathe.</p><p>And still, she finds herself capable of conversation as they walk along the Konoha streets under the moonlight. Not that she remembers exactly she says. Her brain feels like it is on autopilot while the rest of her body is going haywire.</p><p>She’s nervous as she unlocks the front door for Itachi, even though her apartment is by no means messy or ugly. In fact, she takes great pride in her cozy little dwelling and all the decorations and plants she’s added to it.</p><p>The best thing about the apartment, small as it is, is the large windows. Specifically the glass sliding door that opens out to a small balcony. During the daytime, the sun shines through but is not harsh enough to overheat the inside of the apartment. Mirai had taken great care in selecting a south-facing apartment unit for all the plants she would have in her home. And at night, like now, she had an expansive view of the village and the clear skies stretching over all the buildings.</p><p>Itachi is looking out toward the balcony too, and Mirai is unable to stop the invitation as it flies out of her mouth.</p><p>“Would you like to go out?” she asks.</p><p>He looks surprised, and she quickly realizes her mistake in omitting a few words, “To the balcony. Go out to the balcony. It’s a pretty nice view at night.”</p><p>Itachi’s eyes smile before his mouth does, and he gives a small nod, “I’d like that.”</p><p>She strides across the room and slides open the door to the balcony. There’s just barely enough room for two, and she stands to the far right so Itachi can have more space. Something like satisfaction blooms in her veins when she sees that he does not choose to stand farthest away from her as possible.</p><p>The breeze is light, and Mirai hangs her arms over the railing. Her eyes skim over the building rooftops she knows so well as she tries to project an image of utmost ease and aloofness while her mind is actually fixating on the man standing next to her.</p><p>Itachi leans against the railing too, his straight posture melting into something much more casual—so casual that it almost looks sinful for him. No one should be able to look this beautiful, leaning against a balcony railing. It must be the night, Mirai reasons. She’s tired and especially susceptible to the charms of some long-haired men after nine p.m.</p><p>Then Mirai notices that he’s still wearing the same white t-shirt. Goosebumps crawl up her own arms as she ponders if he’s cold. The goosebumps persist as her eyes catch on the hint of collarbone gently showing through the fabric of Itachi’s shirt.</p><p>“Would you like a blanket?” she asks.</p><p>Itachi is about to tell her he’s not cold at all, but then realizes it would mean he doesn’t get a blanket that probably smells of Mirai.</p><p>The minute he had stepped into her apartment, her scent had been stronger than he had ever experienced. It was not overpowering, but rather intoxicating. It had taken a fair amount of willpower not to comment on how good her apartment smelled, because it would probably be creepy to hear a man you invite into your home at night saying “Your apartment smells very good because everything in here smells like you.”</p><p>So he says yes to the blanket offer and only allows himself to smile after she leaves, which is definitely another creepy thing to do at night. Smiling to yourself, on your crush’s balcony.</p><p>Mirai would have offered a sweater, if she owned anything that she knew would definitely fit Itachi. She had some oversized things…but a blanket would ultimately be the safer option. In her bedroom, she shrugs on a knit sweater and grabs her favorite fluffy blanket that is folded up at the foot of her bed. Itachi can have the blanket for tonight on the couch too, since it is thicker than the one she usually uses for sleeping. She’s about to head out when a figure appears right in front of her, a scream catching mid-way in her throat.</p><p>It’s Sasuke fucking Uchiha.</p><p>“Relax, it’s a clone. I’m just here to tell you to take care of my brother. He probably hasn’t done a sleepover since…ever.”</p><p>Her heartbeat is just slowing down when the clone demands, “Treat Itachi well.”</p><p>This sounds a lot like a ‘what are your intentions with my brother’ type of thing, and Mirai sputters defensively, completely at a loss for words.</p><p>“Of course. I’m getting a blanket for him now,” she argues, “Did you think I was going to murder him or something?”</p><p>“You couldn’t even if you wanted to,” Sasuke’s clone sneers, “But you better make sure he’s comfortable. He’s too accommodating and quiet for his own good.”</p><p>Mirai snorts in agreement because Itachi does seem that way. A question bubbles up in her mind, and she takes great care in trying to put it into words without possibly offending Sasuke.</p><p>“If he has trouble sleeping…is there anything I should know to help?”</p><p>Although her one-night stand experiences and brief relationships were by no means a comprehensive representation of Konoha, she’s slept with enough shinobi to know that the lifestyle came with nightmares more often than not. Especially those who had fought in the war.</p><p>The clone is silent, staring at her as if she’d sprouted another head. She really hopes she doesn’t have to explain how she knows about battle nightmares to Sasuke’s clone.</p><p> </p>
<h1 class="char Zyyy U2698">⚘</h1><p> </p><p>Back at the Uchiha Compound, Sasuke stills in bed.</p><p>“What’s wrong?” Naruto murmurs as he traces lazy circles across Sasuke’s naked back.</p><p>“She asked what to do if Itachi has nightmares…” Sasuke whispers quietly.</p><p>He had no idea how Mirai had guessed, but is even more taken aback that the shopkeeper is inquiring about how to <em>help</em>.</p><p>“Told you,” Naruto yawns lazily as he slings an arm around Sasuke’s waist, “You don’t needa worry about Itachi.”</p><p> </p>
<h1 class="char Zyyy U2698">⚘</h1><p> </p><p>“Tch, ask him, not me,” Sasuke’s clone finally replies.</p><p>The real Sasuke is thinking about how he doesn’t really know what to do to help Itachi’s nightmares. They both have nightmares. Hell, even Naruto has nightmares.</p><p>But Sasuke has seen his brother’s deepest nightmares, has lived them. It’s the same one that plagued Sasuke for years: the night of the Uchiha Massacre. And while Sasuke only remembers his parents’ deaths, Itachi relives the deaths of each and every clan member he killed. He relives every second of that night in his sleep.</p><p>Sasuke had once tried to cast a genjutsu on his own brother when he realized what Itachi’s darkest nightmares entailed. Itachi fell asleep peacefully afterward, but the next morning he asked Sasuke to never do it again.</p><p>“Even if I didn’t see them in my nightmares, I have to live with it every day,” Itachi had told him.</p><p>After that incident, Sasuke had hated waking up to Itachi thrashing in his sleep even more. He detested Itachi’s nightmares much more than his own, and he detested himself for not knowing how to ease his brother’s burdens.</p><p>“Okay,” Mirai sighs, “I’ll do that. Anything else?”</p><p>The clone tosses her a small tote bag. There’s a toothbrush inside. Itachi’s, she assumes.</p><p>“Chamomile tea, the flowers steeped for ten minutes. If he has especially bad nightmares and can’t go back to sleep.”</p><p>With that, the clone disappears and Mirai shivers. She then doubles back to her bed for one of her own pillows. Mirai places the pillow—along with the tote bag Sasuke’s clone brought—on the couch for Itachi later and rejoins him out on the balcony.</p><p>To her surprise, he’s sitting on the ground. She sits down next to him, handing the blanket over.</p><p>“Thank you,” Itachi looks at her curiously, “Did the clone bother you?”</p><p>Of course Itachi had detected his own brother, and Mirai wonders if he overheard their conversation. They hadn’t spoken loudly, but she can’t help worrying if her asking about nightmares might have been offensive or overstepping some boundaries.</p><p>“No, he just stopped by to pass off your toothbrush. I put it on the couch,” Mirai replies.</p><p>“Thank you,” he says again, and she wonders if there’s anyone more polite than Itachi Uchiha in this world.</p><p>She nods quietly.</p><p>Itachi draws the blanket carefully over his shoulders, Mirai’s scent washing over him as the blanket unfolds. He tries not to inhale too visibly as he stares straight ahead and keeps a calm look on his face.</p><p>The mountains are dark in the distance, a great picture of peace in the nighttime. Peace after the war ended had felt like cold water for him—hard to grow accustomed to, and unnatural. It had felt like a trick that he could never figure out. But this peace tonight is different; it’s fluid as Mirai and him weave in and out of conversation underneath the stars.</p><p>They talk about her plant shop and his experiences in the war, their favorite things to cook and books to read, Naruto and Sasuke, the neighboring villages and different lands…one conversation unravels into another and there are steady pulses of silence every now and then.</p><p>And Itachi realizes this is not just peace, but perhaps also happiness. A new type of happiness, outside of his time with Sasuke and Naruto. A happiness that is somehow strangely—and not so strangely—tied to Mirai.</p><p>The realization makes him nervous, although he cannot say why.</p><p>When he looks back over at her, Itachi notices Mirai's legs are drawn up to her chest tightly. Even with a sweater on, she’s feeling the cold now.</p><p>The nervousness in him spreads, and he pushes the nausea to the back of his mind so his voice will not quaver when he asks if she wants to share the blanket.</p><p>Mirai agrees, and he doesn’t know who moves first, but her leg touches him lightly for a fraction of a second before she scoots to maintain the teeniest bit of space between them. Itachi shuffles the blanket around and lifts an arm over her. He wants so bad to leave it across her shoulder, but draws his arm back once she grabs ahold of the right edge of the blanket.</p><p>A yawn. His heart does somersaults at her candid display of fatigue—it has never occurred to Itachi that a yawn could be such a precious sight until tonight—until he realizes that she may be very tired. But when he asks if she wants to go to sleep, she protests indignantly.</p><p>Itachi is not entirely convinced that Mirai isn’t tired, so he keeps silent. He thinks if he keeps talking she might feel obligated to entertain conversation and stay up longer. He’s waiting for her to grow bored and call it a night, but he doesn’t expect her to actually fall asleep outside. When her body drops slightly to the side—when he processes the weight of her head falling<em> onto his chest</em>—Itachi is utterly speechless. His brain cannot compute a single thought.</p><p>Just, <em>oh</em>.</p><p>“Mirai?” he calls out in a quiet voice.</p><p>She doesn’t answer. Instead, he can feel her breathing steadily: her warm, little exhales pressing against his chest.</p><p>He’s frozen in place for what seems like an eternity but simultaneously not long enough; if he could, he would stay like this for the rest of the night. But that would be taking advantage of Mirai for his own selfish pleasure in having her lean against him.</p><p>Cautiously, Itachi scoops Mirai up in his arms. He’s careful not to disturb her as she continues sleeping. He makes an exasperated sound as he listens to her little sleep-breathing noises. How could a person be so adorable when asleep? She is so light in his arms, too; he would not mind holding her all night long like this, on the balcony.</p><p>The inside of the apartment is darker than it is outside on the balcony, and he stands in the living room for a few seconds while his eyes readjust. It’s not hard to find her bedroom, and the door is already partially open. </p><p>Itachi nudges the door lightly with his foot, pleased when it doesn’t creak because he had been afraid Mirai might have awoken if she was a light sleeper.</p><p>He lies the girl down on her bed gingerly, and pulls the covers up over her. In her doorway, Itachi spends time contemplating whether or not he should close her door. He stands there feeling the most conflicted he has in a while. When he realizes that the contemplation might be his traitorous brain’s attempt at an excuse to keep watching her sleep, he leaves the door slightly ajar and flees to the couch, alarmed at himself.</p><p>Not that he’s any less of a creep now when he can’t see her. Although the smell of Mirai had been strongest when the actual body was right next to him—or in his own arms—, he’s still hyper-aware of the same smell on the couch and the pillow she’s left out for him.</p><p>Itachi settles into the couch, wondering how the fuck he’s supposed to get any shut eye in this state. His chest feels like a place that Mirai has nested into, the phantom sensation of her head falling onto him haunting Itachi thoroughly. He replays it over and over, his mind growing drunk off the memory of her hair right under his nose and her soft, warm breaths ghosting against his skin with only the thin layer of his t-shirt between her lips and his chest.</p><p>And that’s how Itachi falls asleep, his chin tucked into his chest and his nose sniffing his shirt surreptitiously.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>so i try to keep chapters around 10 pages in Word and this was like 20. i wrote the first bit of it weeks ago (maybe even more than a month??) and finished the remaining 3/4 of it all today. it is definitely a sloppy job and idk if the detached tone is due to the fact that i am rushing or bc i'm forcing myself to jump back into the story. </p><p>also about 214--i wasn't exactly sure about how many Uchihas were living in the compound prior to the massacre, but a reddit post or smth said maybe 1,000-2,000?? the number was much larger than anything i had ever imagined but i used it to guesstimate the amount of children as well. pls, pls do leave a comment if you've heard/think differently </p><p>sorry for the long wait and change in style--it's been a while since i could bring myself to write (this story) again. </p><p>i hope you are all doing well, emotionally and physically.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. hyacinth</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>a lil more fr itachi's pov, i think, than the previous chapters have been showing.</p><p>"Darkest Hour" by Lvyes</p><p>"Normal People" by Joji ft. rei brown</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A soft sound: a body shifting. The susurrus of blankets across bed sheets.</p><p>Even though Itachi had just barely opened his eyes, he found himself hyperaware of the sounds Mirai made as she was awakening and moving around in her own room.</p><p>So she was the type to make her bed in the morning. He smiled to himself, even though he did not really know why. It just made him happy to know more about her. Her daily routines, habits. The immense curiosity he had about her almost startled him.</p><p>He was definitely not thinking about how he also liked to make his bed first thing in the morning and that this similarity between them was quite ideal. No, he was definitely not thinking about compatibility or anything like that.</p><p>Her tentative footsteps interrupt his denial, and he stirs on the couch before self-consciously stilling. He wants to turn to see her, but at the same time he really doesn’t—Itachi has no idea how horribly wretched he might look right now. The sleep last night had been wonderful, and that was all the more worrying. He usually looked quite disheveled after a good sleep.</p><p>The sound of a faucet running makes him realize she is already in the bathroom. Quickly, he sits up and wonders what to do with himself as he folds up the blanket Mirai had lent him last night. He’s much faster than he anticipated because the blanket is folded into a neat square in mere seconds, and he still has no idea what to do.</p><p>Should he even still be in her home? What if she comes out of the bathroom with a look of shock when she sees he is still here? Was he supposed to leave in the night? Or early this morning before she woke up? How late has he slept in—or is it early? Itachi cannot tell. There are just too many things he does not know, and it is making him uncomfortable.</p><p><em>Anxious,</em> his mind corrects. He is feeling anxious. It really is such an all-consuming emotion.</p><p>He stands up, then sits back down onto the couch almost immediately. Standing up is too awkward. Itachi places his hands neatly in his lap.</p><p>
  <em>No, too stiff.</em>
</p><p>He grimaces. Lets his left arm hang off the side of the couch, tries to slouch his body a bit to the side in an attempt to create a picture of relaxation. Another grimace. He must look horribly awkward right now. How to look relaxed and <em>normal?</em> He could not do that.</p><p>Then, he remembers his hair. It must be looking quite unkempt right now. There are no more sounds of running water, so Mirai must be coming out of the bathroom soon. Itachi hurriedly ties his hair, but his fingers have suddenly decided to turn into clumsy potatoes. He fumbles and drops the hair tie, and it is in that moment that Mirai walks out into the hall and sees him. A blush prickles up the back of his neck.</p><p>Mirai thinks it’s much too early to be faced with such a sight—the slight flexing of Itachi’s muscles as he raises his arms to tie his hair, the even look in his eyes. Tying one’s hair should not be such a sexy thing.</p><p>Itachi, on the other hand, bites his tongue. He doesn’t trust himself to say the first thing; but without words between them, his mind is void of all distractions as he drinks in the sight of a sleepy Mirai. Her glasses are low on her nose, her eyes blinking blearily into full consciousness. He finds himself fighting the strangest urge to bridge the distance between them, to reach out and push her glasses up ever so slightly on her face. And maybe also tell her that she looks quite adorable in the morning like this.</p><p>“Your hair looks beautiful,” she says, taking him by total surprise, “even though you just woke up.”</p><p>A little part of himself wilts because she did not say good morning, which means he’s not able to say good morning back to her. Technically, he still can bid her a good morning right now, but it would seem a bit unprompted. Another part of him preens at her unwarranted compliment.</p><p>“It’s…a bit greasy. That’s why I tied it up,” Itachi admits shyly.</p><p>He wonders why he’s telling her that. It’s gross and very unnecessary.</p><p>But by her skeptical eyebrow raise, Itachi can tell she doesn’t believe him. Mirai mumbles something about him being too humble, and he’s about to protest except his brain backfires. And horribly so, because what he says instead is this: “You look beautiful, too.”</p><p>Mirai is quiet for a second, and Itachi is ready to flee, his toes digging into the carpet.</p><p>“You need glasses,” she says flatly.</p><p>“I-I got glasses. And I am wearing them right now.”</p><p>If Sasuke was here, his little brother would probably scream at him. Now was not the time to be a smartass, but Itachi’s brain is completely betraying him. For some reason, he has no control over his words and his mouth is just emitting whatever comes to mind without thinking critically. This is not like him at all. Itachi Uchiha never simply <em>blurted</em> things out.</p><p>Mirai clears her throat, “Yes, you are. I see that.”</p><p>The silence stretches between them, agonizingly slow and thickening by the second. But they are both unwilling to break it, even if it is a bit awkward. Both are a bit too nervous, still a bit too sleepy.</p><p>Such silences are nerve-wracking, Mirai thinks, because she is unsure whether or not the silence can be deemed a mutually comfortable one—she doesn’t really know Itachi that well yet. And if he is comfortable with silences between them, what does that mean about what he feels for her? Such questions only foster useless hopes within her.</p><p>But it is impossible to stop <em>this</em> train of thought now that she’s dared to think of this again. 'This' being Itachi Uchiha, her most horribly helpless crush to date. If they were not standing so far apart right now she probably would have went for a kiss—it is <em>that</em> kind of silence.</p><p>They are just calmly looking at one another and the neighborhood is silent: the town is barely waking up, no interruptions from the outside world. Just the two of them and this burgeoning silence between them, heightening the tension that was already palpable on occasions when there were words. Now, with the silence and the fact that he had spent the night on her couch—after a long night of sharing a blanket under the stars, on her balcony—this is possible kiss-inducing tension.</p><p>However, they are standing five feet apart and perhaps it isn’t even a kissing situation. Maybe she is overthinking it all—and overheating as well, because she’s embarrassed and feeling stupid as fuck with Itachi just peering back at her calmly.</p><p>Or she assumes he’s calm, until she notices the knuckles on the back of his hand as he clenches the edge of the couch.</p><p>“Are you nervous?”</p><p>Her voice is bewildered, and she sounds much ruder than she intends (she had not meant to sound rude at all, really).</p><p>Something that looks like a pout wrinkles across Itachi’s lips.</p><p>“No,” he replies defiantly, almost petulant, “No, I’m not nervous around you.”</p><p>“Y-yeah, okay,” Mirai says shakily, wondering why the idea of Itachi possibly being nervous makes her nervous, “I’m not nervous around you either.”</p><p>She does not sound very convincing, and Itachi points this out. Except his voice is also wavering, and she raises an eyebrow at him.</p><p><em>This is a mess,</em> Mirai thinks to herself. The nervousness is contagious and now they’ve both made each other nervous and she can’t really tell where it all started. She can’t make sense of it, even as she desperately tries to deconstruct their conversation. What reason would Itachi Uchiha have to be nervous around her?</p><p>Itachi stands up then, looking determined.</p><p>“I’ll prove it; I’m not nervous,” he says as he walks up to her and looks Mirai in the eye.</p><p>For some reason, she first thinks he’s going challenge her to a duel. Until she remembers that she’s a civilian. And that Itachi is aware of her civilian status.</p><p>Then her eyes widen, her apprehension spiking before her brain can even provide a coherent reason for this sense of foreboding. Her heartbeat quickens and how absolutely <em>cool</em> Itachi looks right now does not help to ease her anxiety.</p><p>He’s standing mere inches away, just gazing down on her. There’s a calculating look in his eyes, and something turns horribly in the pit of her stomach. Itachi extends an arm.</p><p><em>This is it,</em> she thinks to herself. <em>Oh god.</em></p><p>
  <em>He’s going to slide his arm around my waist and pull me in and this is kind of like the start of a porno right in my own living room, MY OWN LIVING ROOM—or is it going to be romantic and he’s gonna cup the side of my face-</em>
</p><p>Itachi reaches out and hugs her. With one arm.</p><p>Mirai stands still for a second, her mind wiped blank by the gesture. And then, she snakes her arms—both of them—around Itachi’s waist and squeezes a bit, her cheeks heating up.</p><p>She’s sure she knows how to hug people, but somehow she still can’t help but think she is doing something wrong right now. Why is hugging a friend so difficult? How could you possibly overthink hugging? It is just a hug.</p><p>Itachi’s breath catches in his throat when he feels Mirai squeezing him back ever so lightly. He doesn’t get squeezing hugs very often; Naruto was the only one. Sasuke prefers lighter hugs, on the rare occasions when they hug. Usually his brother is content with forehead pokes because it is nostalgic for both of them.</p><p>But this feels very different from Naruto’s hugs, warm as those were. <em>Very</em> different. His heart has leapt into his throat. He’s embarrassed that she can probably feel his heartbeat—she <em>must</em> be able to—or hear it, even.</p><p>The top of Mirai’s head hits right beneath his collarbones, so he can rest his chin comfortably on her hair. He does this cautiously. Itachi can feel the softness of her cheek pressing into his chest. There’s a hollow pocket between them, a gap in front of his sternum where their bodies do not touch. He doesn’t know what burns more: all the places where he can feel her against him, or the spaces of his body that feel so achingly empty because he cannot feel Mirai there.</p><p>He is paying rapt attention to Mirai’s hand placement, the bend of her elbows, how she has her own arms firmly but not uncomfortably wrapped around his waist like a belt. He should mimic this, he decides, because she seems to know what she’s doing—it certainly feels nice to him. But then he realizes the position they are presently in and concludes copying her would not yield anything particularly graceful-looking, especially given their height difference.</p><p>After a bit of frantic calculating, Itachi settles on moving his right hand downward a bit so that the palm is resting over her right shoulder blade. Then he wraps another arm around her, so it’s not just one arm slung over her shoulder like before. Still, this does not feel right.</p><p>His hands drift warily, shyly down to the middle of her back. Is this a normal hug? Is this a good place to rest his hands? He has no idea.</p><p>He feels as if he is doing something wrong just by touching her, even though he <em>knows</em> that to hug a person with your hands floating an inch above their body is not right. Proper hugging requires <em>touching</em>. He knows this.</p><p>Somehow, his left hand is in the middle of her back now, his fingers wrapping instinctively around her waist. Except it’s not instinct; it can’t be, because this is all so foreign to him. But it feels, strangely, like he is perhaps getting close to doing something correctly as he processes the curve in his hands, the faint grasp on her waist.</p><p>It also feels wrong, too good to be true. Too soft and peaceful and<em> right</em> to be reality.</p><p>Itachi is using all of his willpower to not squeeze, not even the slightest bit. To not run his thumb ever so slightly along the side of her waist.</p><p>
  <em>I am just resting my hand there because it just so happens that her body ends there. Like a surface. An edge. A tabletop.</em>
</p><p>He belatedly realizes that the earlier addition of his other hand has drawn them quite close, and he swallows discreetly as possible.</p><p>Mirai chuckles and he can feel it against his shirt, the reverberations shaking through his overly-aware body. The hammering of his heart intensifies at the sound of her laugh.</p><p>“This is nice,” she says, “You are a very good hugger.”</p><p>His knees have never felt weaker.</p><p>She shifts to look at him, and Itachi eagerly memorizes the way her face brushes against his chest for a fraction of second as she moves. Her chin grazing, tracing a tantalizing line along his chest as she turns up.</p><p>When he looks down and their eyes meet, something rushes in him as he gazes at Mirai in such close proximity. It is something about her in his arms and their bodies flush against each other. The feeling is like the need to vomit, but instead of bile rising in his throat it’s something heavy and light at the same time. Very much like crying, he decides.</p><p>Itachi is by no means someone who Mirai would initially describe as large or tall, but somehow he seems much <em>more</em> now after he’d comfortably rested his chin on top of her head earlier. Now her mind is fixating on their difference in height and size as she becomes overly conscious of the size of his hips against hers. And of course, thinking about his hips makes her mind drift elsewhere—to a place a bit lower than the hips, even though she can’t really feel any indication that Itachi is interested<em> there.</em></p><p>Blushing, Mirai tries to regulate her heartbeat before Itachi can get any sense of her embarrassing thoughts—not that she’s ever been good at hiding her expressions anyways.</p><p>The look on Mirai’s face does not appear as embarrassment to Itachi; in fact, he only sees the widening of her pupils and he finds himself overwhelmed with a feeling of safety. Safety, and also something that tastes like protectiveness. He wants Mirai to be safe, and for once, he feels as if he is capable of it. With her in his arms right now, he feels confident that she is safe. Untouchable. That’s what he feels right now—for the both of them.</p><p>Her eyes widen further, and he wonders how someone can look at him in such amazement. And <em>why.</em> Because he certainly hasn’t done anything to earn such a look from her.</p><p>“Your eyes…” Mirai murmurs softly, her voice tinged with surprise.</p><p>A wave of devastation crashes in Itachi’s chest as he quickly realizes his Sharingan has been activated. The devastation swiftly floods into embarrassment—a sense of embarrassment very different than the kind he has been feeling all morning, because this is less uncertainty and more definite, much more shameful.</p><p>One hand immediately flies up to shield his eyes from her as the apologies spill from his mouth; he simultaneously steels himself emotionally for some sort of recoil from the girl. But Mirai only squeezes him a bit more firmly instead of letting go.</p><p>It takes him a few seconds to realize that she is rejecting his profuse apologies. <em>It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay.</em> Her words sound so strange—why is she telling him things are okay when they obviously aren’t? He falls silent, mind scrambling to make sense of her response amidst the nausea rising within him.</p><p>“Are you alright?” Mirai asks, her eyebrows knitting together in worry, “Did the…the hug? Make you feel uncomfortable? Or do you sense danger?”</p><p>The fact that she looks as if <em>she</em> has done something wrong makes Itachi want to shake her and kiss her at the same time. He had flashed the fucking<em> Sharingan</em> at her in the middle of a hug and she was concerned for <em>him</em>.</p><p>And it isn’t danger—no, quite the opposite. He thinks about how this is much more humiliating than being caught with a boner, which promptly reminds him that of all the things many years of fighting and violence have took from him, a healthy testosterone drive was not one of them. He separates from Mirai, begrudgingly.</p><p>“Danger isn’t the only thing that triggers the Sharingan…sorry,” he clears his throat, unable to meet her eyes, “Sorry. I lost a bit of control there.”</p><p>Mirai immediately misses his embrace as soon as it’s gone, the absence stirring a violent longing within her. She’s about to ask exactly what else triggers the Sharingan, but her stomach decides to growl loudly just then. Itachi looks shaken—horrified, really—at the unexpected sound.</p><p><em>Great.</em> Another thing to add to her personal list of A Million Things to be Embarrassed About Today Before 10 A.M.</p><p>Instead of apologizing, she asks, “Would you like to get breakfast?”</p><p>Her brain really has decided to be especially brash this morning. But perhaps Itachi will want nothing to do with her again after this, so she might as well go all out today.</p><p>He blinks, smiles softly, and gives a short, clipped nod.</p><p>“Ah, fuck,” Mirai mutters under her breath as she registers the time on the kitchen clock behind Itachi, “I have to open the shop in an hour. How do you feel about dango?”</p><p>She has no idea how she is comfortably bulldozing through conversation, pretending as if nothing has happened. As if they hadn’t spent the night talking about nothing and everything while sharing a blanket. The fact that he must have somehow carried her to her room after she’d fallen asleep, because she certainly doesn’t remember walking back—she <em>definitely</em> is not thinking about that. Or the hug that just happened. These are all things to freak out about later when Itachi is nowhere near to see her break down, but Mirai is still impressed by her brain’s ability to pretend everything is alright.</p><p>“I would like that,” Itachi says softly, his next admittance even quieter as he smiles, “I like dango.”</p><p> </p>
<h1 class="char Zyyy U2698">⚘</h1><p> </p><p>On the way to the dango shop, the silence is different than the one they shared this morning—how, Mirai doesn’t really know, but she thinks this is another good kind of silence. She hopes, as faint blushes bloom and fade across her cheeks.</p><p>Like her blushes, the distance between their bodies oscillates as they walk. At first, they had started from her apartment with about two feet between them; but as they headed through town, the space had grown smaller and smaller until their elbows bumped and they both stepped apart at the same time. And it goes on like this: the bit of space between them like a mini blackhole that inexplicably draws the two closer and closer until one of them realizes, and they would drift apart again, only to silently perpetuate the cycle.</p><p>Beside Mirai, Itachi thinks about the Sharingan incident earlier. His thoughts flash briefly back to the moment he had awoken his Mangekyo. It seems forever ago, but the familiar ache seizes his heart with a stinging vehemence. Even after all these years, remembering that day always feels like running his fingers over a fresh wound.</p><p> </p>
<h1 class="char Zyyy U2698">⚘</h1><p> </p><p>Itachi had wanted Mirai to order at the dango shop first, so that he could smoothly as possible order right after and pay for the both of them. He knew she would protest if he asked to pay for her order, but it was the least he could do for Mirai after she’d let him stay the night.</p><p>However, she insisted that he order first because she needed time to decide what to get. Even after Itachi receives his Mitarashi dango, she is still surveying the display. He watches as her eyes flicker between the Hanami and matcha. She would intensely gaze at one, then her eyes would drift over the other, intensely gaze at it for a minute, and then flit back to the former. The entire time, her mouth was pursed in a tight line.</p><p>In the end, it takes her fifteen minutes and Itachi watches her fondly for every single of her quiet deliberation. Nothing else had seemed to matter to her in the moment; she seemed completely unaware of her surroundings in her extremely focused, near-meditative state. And in turn, he could watch her as closely as he wanted, staring at her without her knowing.</p><p>He finally found time to examine the little things about her that he wouldn’t dare let his eyes rest on during their normal interactions, because being caught staring was <em>weird.</em> Itachi had counted the sporadic little spots on her face—too small to be sun spots, but too infrequent to be considered basic freckles—, the lines in her bottom lip—just a bit chapped in the right corner—, the delicate creases beneath her eyes—he wondered how they might shift when she smiled.</p><p>A little part of Itachi was disappointed when she sprung forward toward the counter and asked for the Hanami. But then she had turned around, beaming with the dango in hand, and he couldn’t help but smile back at her.</p><p>“Sorry I took so long to decide,” she murmurs sheepishly, but he only raises his hand a bit in a dismissive gesture.</p><p>“It’s fine, I didn’t mind,” he says back softly, and he means it very much.</p><p>As they walk toward her store, Itachi notices Mirai is walking a bit slower than she had been on their way to the dango shop. Although the logical reason would be because they’re eating as they’re walking, something inside of him wonders if perhaps Mirai also wants to spend time with him. After all, they will be parting ways at her store. It is a ridiculous thought, really,—completely unfounded and a childish hope—but Itachi can’t help but smile to himself.</p><p>And the walk aside, he has plenty of other things to smile about. She had told him his hair was beautiful. He had hugged her, and she had hugged him back, warmly. She had not kicked him out of her apartment or yelled at him when he’d accidentally slipped with his Sharingan; she had kept her arms around him.</p><p>He could still feel the warmth of her hands against his back in his memory. He hoped that memory would never grow lukewarm or worse, numb, with time.</p><p>“How is yours?” Mirai asks him.</p><p>Itachi has been watching her out of the corners of his eyes, and she’d finished her dango a minute ago. Perhaps she had been really hungry after all, or she is just a fast eater. He still has one more ball left on his skewer.</p><p>“Very good,” he says, then briefly wonders if he should offer his last to her.</p><p>The thought of feeding her, cliché as that image of affection is, makes him blush and Itachi quickly casts his eyes to the ground as he whispers, “I love dango.”</p><p>Sasuke doesn’t like sweets, but he often brings back dango just for Itachi. Still, it’s not the same as going out to get dango with another person. Itachi wishes this was not a one-time thing.</p><p>Mirai finds herself taken aback by the shyness at which Itachi had admitted his love for dango; she’s overcome with a sudden, violent need to shake him. Or squeeze his face, like she is often tempted to with small animals or babies. Her heart is absolutely soaring at how adorable he’d sounded, and she wonders if he will make that same face if they ever go out for dango again. She wants to buy him a million dango, because she’s not exactly sure if she’s ever seen him more content than in this very moment.</p><p>Meanwhile, Itachi is fighting internally with himself. He had wanted to say something more than ‘I love dango,’ which was quite childish and flat in hindsight. It did not properly convey the extent of his happiness. Even though he had tried to sound as sincere as possible, he wondered if Mirai had really understood. To say more was to be more vulnerable, and risk being a fool in front of her. Itachi takes the leap.</p><p>“This is really nice. Maybe…we can do it again sometime.”</p><p>He doesn’t look at Mirai, opting instead to shove the remnants of his dango into his mouth and pretend to be wholly focused on chewing. He desperately wants to avoid appearing overeager, in case it makes Mirai uncomfortable or pressures her into spending more time with him than she wants. Itachi doesn’t see the way her eyes widen or her mouth opening in a silent, ecstatic laugh before closing to a smile.</p><p>“Of course we can get dango again,” she says, her voice rushing with warm agreement.</p><p>Itachi swallows, unsure if he had expected her to reject him or accept. He’s still not sure, but he knows he is very happy right now with her answer. He peeks at her, and finds Mirai smiling back at him. His heart flips inside out and he finds it hard to breathe for a few seconds. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to notice as she excitedly continues talking.</p><p>“I’m always down for dango. Didn’t know you had a sweet tooth though, Itachi…you look more like…someone who would abstain from sweets because you have an insane amount of self-discipline and want to live a clean, healthy life or something.”</p><p>Itachi looks concerned, and Mirai immediately wonders if she’s offended him until he says, “It doesn’t have to be dango. I really do like dango…but I also like hanging out with you.”</p><p>She almost trips on a rock, and then realizes there was no rock and she just fucked up walking when she heard Itachi say that. Surely he could not really mean it—but Itachi never said things he didn’t mean, did he?</p><p><em>No, he definitely does,</em> a voice in her mind chides herself as she remembers the possibly-flirtatious things he had said in her shop. Itachi is a sincere person, but also quite friendly. She could not read too much into his words.</p><p>Still, she can’t hide the look of pleasant surprise on her face as she nurses the idea of Itachi enjoying hanging out with her and<em> wanting</em> to spend more time with her. Mirai is flattered, to say the least.</p><p>When they reach the plant shop, Mirai smiles shyly at him before turning to unlock the door. She knows she should say some sort of goodbye, but she doesn’t want to accidentally sound as if she is forcing him to leave. And asking him to stay with her a bit longer is too much—there’s no way she could manage that gracefully, either. So she waits for him to say something first, the disappointment of them having to part ways sinking in her stomach.</p><p>Itachi wonders what kind of excuse he can come up with today to buy a plant—not that getting more plants for the garden is really an excuse. It’s just…he doesn’t really have a person in mind today. His parents had been the first people he’d wanted to address, then all the children—all those lives lost too young. Those were the ones that haunted him the most strongly and constantly.</p><p>He had never really felt like he’d been able to afford the luxury of childhood; not many Uchihas had, in those days. Then he thought of a friend, perhaps his first and truest friend.</p><p>Shisui had been a child, too, he supposed. They had all been children, and they were still children when everything fell apart.</p><p>The soft creak of the door opening pulls him briefly out of his reminiscing, and after a few seconds Itachi decides to come into the shop. Mirai does not seem to mind or question him, noticing that he is in deep thought as he follows after her. Itachi is looking at the plants, but she gets the sense that his thoughts are elsewhere; she would ask him about it, but something in her is content to just leave him be. Quietly, she makes her way to the cashier and begins reviewing the inventory.</p><p>In another corner of the shop, Itachi’s thoughts drift back to the Sharingan this morning. And of course, Shisui. The person who had awoken his Mangekyo Sharingan.</p><p>
  <em>“Please protect this village…and the honor of the Uchiha name…if you are my friend.”</em>
</p><p>The image of Shisui smiling but not seeing him, blood streaming from the eyeless holes in his face. Shisui’s figure against the sky, his feet on the edge of the cliff. A cry stuck in the throat of Itachi's younger self as he watched his friend step back, the protests wrapping around his heart like thorns. And the helplessness that had consumed him then—fourteen years ago—as he watched Shisui’s body fall into the river, disappearing forever.</p><p>The wet eyes of his friend in his own palm, slowly growing cold. The repulsion, the horror, and the endless devastation that had seized him as he truly realized just what had happened.</p><p>He remembers the fall clearly. The moments after, not so much. Many clan members had blamed him. They had said things that were probably horrible, if he had been sane enough to hear them clearly or care. Instead, life became a blur, punctuated by waves of absolute sorrow and excruciating misery. Perhaps there was guilt, too, for not being strong and fast enough. For living while Shisui was gone.</p><p>And then the massacre came, and Itachi had felt guilt like never before. That guilt never left, searing so deep into his bones that it moved with him for the next fourteen years. It was a second skin, a part of his blood and breath. It was simply impossible to live without guilt after the endless atrocities he’d committed in a singular night.</p><p>Some days his decisions made sense, as pitiful and extreme as they were. But mostly they just hurt. Especially when he remembered his father and mother not resisting at all. His shadow cutting across the floor, a cruel prologue of the blade that would come after. They had told him they were proud of him and reminded him to take care of Sasuke.</p><p>And he had abandoned his only remaining family afterward.</p><p>Some days, the guilt of everything he’d put Sasuke through was so debilitating he could not even look at his brother.</p><p>Despite living with Sasuke now and the miracle of their mended relationship, Itachi thinks about how he has mostly only known love in the context of love lost, after the ones he’s loved are gone.</p><p>The realization had hit him as Shisui fell of the cliff, taking a piece of Itachi with him—a part Itachi didn’t even know he possessed until that very moment. And in a second, it had been snatched from him. He had felt it when he heard the splash in the river; something had happened in his chest then, like a rubber band snapping against his heart. The pain had left him gasping.</p><p>Some nights, he still felt that emptiness shifting around in his chest like a rabid dog, clawing at his heart.</p><p>A plant for Shisui, then. That is what he’s come to get today.</p><p>Mirai is at the counter when he makes his way to the front of the shop. She smiles at him, anticipating the question she can see written in his eyes.</p><p>“Do you have any flowers for…” his voice trails off softly as he hesitates, “love and grief? I know it is a particular combination, but perhaps something for forgiveness?”</p><p>She cannot help but look surprised. Mirai’s mind swims with possible explanations, since Itachi is not offering any context. Is he apologizing to a lover? Is this connected to the two hundred aloe vera plants he bought—is it the same person? Or does he have multiple lovers who have gone bad? Itachi was the last person she’d expect to have a poor love life; the man really deserved the best after all he had been through. Was he too kind? Was someone taking advantage of his sincerity and good nature?</p><p>Before she can completely fall down the rabbit hole, Mirai blurts out the first flowers that come to mind.</p><p>“Marigold, chrysanthemum,” she has to keep talking to distract herself, “Marigolds can represent despair and grief…usually over the loss of love. Yellow chrysanthemums, too; that color is sometimes for flowers on a grave…Cornflowers are also flowers often used for remembrance. Hyacinths, the purple ones, can represent deep feelings of sadness. Apology and sorrow, like 'please forgive me'.”</p><p>She pauses because Itachi has nodded.</p><p>“Do you have any purple hyacinths?”</p><p>Mirai nods and points him in the direction of the plants—she only has two right now—and she wonders who the plant is possibly for as Itachi walks over to take his pick.</p><p>When he returns with a plant in hand, she can barely contain herself. Still, she tries to sound as casual as possible.</p><p>“Are you asking a lover for forgiveness?”</p><p>Itachi is quiet for a while and she looks up, trying to understand the strange look on his face. His eyes look both sad and happy at the same time, and there’s a humored grin quirking at the edge of his lips. There is a shyness in his fingers tapping against the edge of the table, in the way he won’t really meet her gaze.</p><p>“Sasuke’s been saying I should have told you long ago, but I was… I didn’t listen to him. But I think you should know now.”</p><p>She wonders why it sounds like he’s breaking up with her even though they are not even remotely dating—<em>not even close.</em> Mirai steels herself for some earth-shattering rejection.</p><p>Instead, what Itachi tells her is earth-shattering in ways she could not imagine. She could not be more wrong about why she thought he was buying such strange grief plants from her shop.</p><p>All this time, he has been trying to set up a garden in the Uchiha Compound for all the clan members he killed. One plant for each person. The sincerity and objectivity with which he explains his plan to Mirai slices at her—this man is so calm and collected, but is plain as day that he is hurting. And this garden, while helping him come to terms with it all, is an insanely masochistic form of therapy. Her embarrassment at her brash assumptions bleeds into dismay.</p><p>Now that she thinks about it, she can remember the bit of sorrow he had on his face the other times he’d bought plants. At first she had just assumed it was a part of his usual expression, but now that she has spent almost an entire day together with Itachi, she realizes it is not. It has been a certain type of sorrow all along, evident now as he looks at the hyacinth.</p><p>Itachi promptly apologizes for hiding this from her, afraid that she may be upset. He even asks if this is uncomfortable knowledge for her, offering to buy his plants from elsewhere from now on. She firmly insists that she is not upset and that she will continue helping him with whatever he needs to build his garden.</p><p>“At least you think I’m suitable for dating, unlike my brother,” Itachi finishes, with a wry grin.</p><p>She has no idea how he can make a joke right now; Mirai is also at a loss for how to respond.</p><p>“Everyone knows how much he loves you,” she says, deciding that is safe enough.</p><p>“Yes, but I’m glad he’s learned how to love others, too. Loving just one person, immensely, is not healthy.”</p><p>Something in Itachi’s tone helps her realize he is referring to himself. Everyone in the village knows Itachi had done most of everything he’d been condemned for out of love for Sasuke; how deeply he had loved his younger brother in the past, through the massacre and joining Akatsuki and during the war. So much to protect his only brother, the only Uchiha left apart from him. But had Itachi found more people to love now? It had certainly sounded like he was hinting at something like that.</p><p>“Do you…?” she wasn’t exactly sure how to phrase it.</p><p>Mirai wasn’t even sure why she had to keep asking Itachi if he was seeing anyone at the moment. She wished she could keep her mouth shut and curiosity to herself.</p><p>“Love anyone at the moment?” Itachi asked, and she nodded, almost afraid to hear his answer, “No, no one at the moment. But I am interested in someone.”</p><p>He smiles to himself then, and she thinks he must really like this person with the way his eyes glimmer. The anguish begins to unravel slowly inside of her, and Mirai forces a grin onto her face to maintain composure for business. This has always been and will be purely business.</p><p>She barely hears his goodbye as he leaves with the purple hyacinth.</p><p>Mirai wonders who the person Itachi likes could be. Whoever they are, they are very lucky. She hopes they know, too.</p><p>She just hopes he doesn’t buy flowers or plants from this shop for that person. Itachi is definitely allowed to and she would not protest against it, but it would kill her inside.</p><p>The remaining hours in the shop today will drag by painfully slow, she knows.</p><p> </p>
<h1 class="char Zyyy U2698">⚘</h1><p> </p><p>Itachi leaves Mirai’s shop with the hyacinth in his arms. He is increasingly pleased with his purchase the more he looks at the plant. The flowers are beautiful, and its symbolic meaning could not be any more appropriate for the Uchiha it’s meant for. Even the curls of the flower petals remind him of the ends of Shisui’s wavy locks. He softly brushes a thumb across the edge of a petal, smiling to himself as he walks back to the compound.</p><p>Upon remembering how close he and Mirai had just come to talking about his crush, Itachi finds his cheeks heating up again. Thankfully, she had not pressed any further, and he had not divulged any revealing information aside from the fact that he was interested in someone. While he was grateful for this, he also wondered if Mirai was not at all interested in knowing who the crush was—or maybe she wasn’t interested in him at all.</p><p>He bit his bottom lip in worry. That would hurt a bit, he decided; but he could handle the heartbreak, if maybe she was willing to keep being friends after. He would be quite content with having her as just a platonic friend if it came to it. It would just take some time for the butterflies to settle every time he thought of hugging her. And thinking about her hands brushing against his shirt. How they <em>might</em> feel against his bare skin, or cupping the sides of his face. Her hands were very nice.</p><p>His own hands grip the edge of the pot tighter, and Itachi walks a bit faster toward home. He had to plant this hyacinth as quickly as possible, so that he could go the forest and get what he needed and come back in time before dark. He also needed to shower.</p><p>Itachi is so enveloped in thinking out his plans for the rest of the day that he does not realize Sasuke and Naruto are both out on the porch. It also does not occur to him that perhaps they had been waiting for him for quite some time.</p><p>The younger Uchiha looked visibly worried while Naruto just looked a bit bored. However, the blonde brightens as Itachi nears. Sasuke’s expression now looks like one befitting a parent whose son had just returned from war.</p><p>“So, did you get any?” Naruto asks eagerly.</p><p>Itachi blinks.</p><p>He lifts up the plant uncertainly, “Yes, I got a purple hyacinth.”</p><p>Naruto and Sasuke groan in unison.</p><p>“Get <em>laid,</em> ‘tachi. Not get another plant for one of our dead clan members,” Sasuke mutters, massaging his temples.</p><p>Itachi’s brows crinkle delicately as he realizes why Naruto had been so impatient for him to leave with Mirai yesterday night. There were many things Itachi could get, if he tried. He knew he was more than capable of anything if he set his mind to it. Getting ‘laid,’ as the kids called it, was not one of them. He had not thought of that at all last night when he left with Mirai…but now, he is inevitably thinking about it. Neither Naruto nor Sasuke notice the slight blush tinging his cheeks at the thought of Mirai and him together…like <em>that</em>.</p><p>He huffs, deciding to ignore the comment because it is the swiftest and safest option: “I think this is a very pretty plant for Shisui.”</p><p>“So does she know yet?” Sasuke asks.</p><p>Itachi wishes his brother did not sound so accusatory, because he still feels a bit guilty about not telling Mirai until now.</p><p>“Yes,” Itachi gives a small nod, “She seemed a bit sad though.”</p><p>“Geez, I wonder why,” his younger brother shoots back, sarcastic as ever.</p><p>Naruto elbows Sasuke in the ribs, then looks at Itachi with imploring eyes. Somehow, this is a cue for Sasuke to mimic the same expression on his boyfriend’s face and Itachi inexplicably feels as if he is in some sort of peril. He would walk into the house to escape whatever is coming, but the two are blocking the way.</p><p>“So, about Mirai…” Naruto asks slowly.</p><p>Itachi wonders why Naruto is bringing up Mirai again, and in such a suspicious tone.</p><p>“Hmm? What about her?”</p><p>“Did uh…you haveagoodnightwithher yesterday?”</p><p>Itachi is about to say yes, but then notices the eagerness in both of them and catches on.</p><p>“I had a very pleasant time, but nothing happened between us,” he says flatly.</p><p>The finality in his voice makes them scowl, but little do they know he’s also a bit disappointed that his statement is the truth.</p><p>“How could nothing have happened last night? It was the perfect set up!” Naruto screeches.</p><p>Then he suddenly stills, a look of bewilderment washing over his face, “Oh no. We forgot to give you condoms. You didn’t have any protection and you’re so responsible you would never risk-”</p><p>Naruto stops talking as he groans dramatically into his hands. Next to him, Sasuke pales while simultaneously looking like he’s going to pop a blood vessel in his forehead.</p><p>“We’ve failed you, Itachi!”</p><p>The elder Uchiha grimaces at Naruto’s wail, and Sasuke sighs.</p><p>Itachi decides not to tell them that he is perfectly capable of walking to a convenience store and buying condoms.</p><p>“I don’t—that’s a bit fast, isn’t it…?” Itachi asks, wondering why the two are so invested—and disappointed.</p><p>Sasuke scowls in reply, “You’ve known her for, like, a month. And you bought three hundred cacti from her shop.”</p><p>“Two hundred-fourteen,” Itachi corrects, “and they were aloe vera.”</p><p><em>Has it been a month?</em> He feels as if it hasn’t been that long, but at the same time it’s like he’s known her for a while. It was also hypocritical of him to talk about time and going too fast, considering what he was planning.</p><p>“Not to mention you guys were basically eye-fucking each other at dinner,” Naruto adds cheerfully.</p><p>Itachi splutters, about to say that he has never ‘eye-fucked’ <em>anyone</em> in his entire life, but then he registers that Naruto said he’d observed a mutual…exchange of repeated glances.</p><p>“She was looking at me during dinner?” Itachi asks wondrously, and Naruto looks at him like he has five heads.</p><p>Naruto doesn’t usually look at him like that, he thinks.</p><p>“Yes! I think she likes you, too. Did you really have no idea…?”</p><p>No, Itachi had known the attraction was mutual from his first time in the shop. Or he had at least gotten a feeling that it was possible. It had been the moment she blushed when he’d stepped closer to her at the counter. But it was nice to hear other people confirm his suspicions and hopes aloud, to know that he wasn’t overthinking or being overly optimistic.</p><p>“So…did you kiss at least?” Sasuke asks, interrupting his older brother’s internal celebration.</p><p>Sasuke is not making eye contact and trying to look disinterested as he nudges a rock on the ground with his foot.</p><p>When Itachi says no, both Sasuke and Naruto sigh together. But Itachi opens his mouth again, and the two lean forward excitedly, looking at him with big eyes for what he is about to reveal.</p><p>“We hugged.”</p><p>Sasuke and Naruto groan yet again, and Itachi wonders how they make sounds of disappointment in such startling unison.</p><p>He also cannot stop himself from smiling at the memory of this morning’s hug. It had been just a hug, but also, a hug! Itachi did not think he would tell anyone about it, but he couldn’t help himself when Sasuke and Naruto asked. And even without elaboration, the younger two can gather enough from the expression on Itachi’s face.</p><p>“Weeell, that is something at least,” Naruto admits, clapping Itachi on the back.</p><p>“If a hug makes him look like that…he’s probably going to die when they finally kiss,” Sasuke murmurs.</p><p>The look of <em>fucking whipped</em> on his older brother’s face scares the shit out of Sasuke. But he’s also very happy for Itachi—not that he’ll admit it aloud. Not yet.</p><p> </p>
<h1 class="char Zyyy U2698">⚘</h1><p> </p><p>Mirai is locking up the shop when the sound of soft footsteps approaches. She hates that she can recognize his footsteps now; it is a level of intimacy that is just plain creepy since it’s not mutual. And inconvenient, considering the fact that she should be moving on from this crush as soon as possible.</p><p>The last few hours have completely drained her. Even in the moments with customers, she had been thinking about him and how horrible this one-sided crush was. It didn’t matter too much to her who he liked; what was troublesome was the fact that she had fallen so quickly, and deeply, for him. The past few days had been glorious, but now it was time to come down from that high. This was a most horrible descent. Things had changed so quickly in a matter of minutes. Just this morning, there had been <em>that</em> hug; now the thought of it made her upset. She had not anticipated things turning bittersweet so soon.</p><p>Itachi is simultaneously the only person she wants to see—and absolutely wants to avoid—right now.</p><p>And he is standing right in front of her, with flowers in his hands.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i know up until now i think i updated at least once a month? sorry for this like 3 month gap. the end of summer was a lot and then i also didnt want to write this bc it'd mean i'd only be one chapter away from ending. i was going to write ch 4 &amp; 5 together, to get it all out, but i only just finished 4. i expected 4 to be longer than 3 because in my notes there's just so much happening in this chapter? or i thought there was. but it turned out to be shorter. 5 will def be shorter as well, i think. </p><p>also, the hug scene that lasts for like 3 pages... bruh. i was sketching it out during the summer and i was feeling particularly touch-starved (and i am, again) and i couldn't remember how a hug felt bc covid but also ive been insanely single af and i was hugging myself??? to try to figure out the hands/arms placement?? and like also googling drawing refs for hugs. i think my descriptions of physical affection are just fucking wack bc i cannot write and also i am so horribly touch-starved. worst combination ever. </p><p>all along, i always considered this the most difficult chapter. and perhaps the most heavy, but idk if i did it justice regarding shisui. </p><p>also i found out apparently itachi and i are the same mbti type and that made my day. </p><p>thank u for all your kind words thus far and your (continued) support. i really do appreciate you taking the time to read this.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. cyclamen</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>shot every time i use the word 'touch' in this chapter </p><p>WARNING // uh the mature warning applies to this chapter, so if you're not into that, just a heads up (and if u are looking forward to that, pls lower your expectations to 0...this chapter is like the older cousin of last chapter's 3 page hug description).</p><p> </p><p>"Cinnamon" by Lylo ft. Meilur </p><p>"All Year" by 11:11 </p><p>"KISS ME" by BAYNK, Mood Talk </p><p>"Ride It" by Jay Sean (yeah, judge me if u want. i used this song on repeat to write this chapter)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>She stares.</p><p>Itachi meets her gaze, although a bit shyly. And that is all it takes, just a little sheepish smile from him to disintegrate all the frustration and misery she’d been stewing in for the past few hours. She wants to run her hands through his hair; it looks so ridiculously soft right now.</p><p>She really hates that she cannot hate Itachi Uchiha.</p><p>“These are for you,” he says matter-of-factly, and gingerly holds out the small pot of flowers in his hands.</p><p>They are cyclamens, pale pink and still dewy even though it is evening. The soil in the pot looks moist as well, and Mirai wonders if Itachi had just potted it—or had he bought it from someone who had just potted it?</p><p>“Cyclamens,” she says, still trying to understand why he is giving these to her.</p><p>The flowers have several meanings, and she is afraid to misinterpret his intentions, if he had placed any meaning on them at all.</p><p>“Yes, I noticed them on my walks in the woods. I thought…I thought they would be nice to give to you,” Itachi murmurs.  </p><p>Cyclamens could represent empathy and devotion, sincerity, sincere tenderness. Lasting love. There are also meanings for resignation and goodbye. Mirai turns the multiple possible meanings over in her head, agonizing over which Itachi could possibly be hinting toward. Is this his way of saying goodbye? That would be too cruel.</p><p>Itachi does not miss the troubled look on Mirai’s face. Immediately, what he has feared comes crashing down on him. These flowers are really too much then, he thinks. He had thought they would be alright, that she would see them and know how he felt. But he realizes now that giving someone flowers representing sincerity and tenderness,—giving such flowers to a plant shop owner who is incredibly knowledgeable about the language of flowers—even though they had barely spent any time together, was too rash of him.</p><p>He is about to apologize when she steps forward to take the pot from his hands. He wants to protest, to tell Mirai that she doesn’t have to put up polite pretenses, but his senses are completely overrun by dread. Has he messed everything up with this? Will she never want to talk to him again? Are things between them irreparably ruined?</p><p>“They’re one of my favorite flowers,” Mirai says suddenly, and he is surprised as his fears are temporarily allayed, “I used to stare at them as a kid and wonder how the flowers worked, because I couldn’t tell if they were upside down or turned inside-out.”</p><p>Her voice sounds tight, and he wants to demand why she looks like she is awaiting bad news. She had said these were one of her favorite flowers—which he had not known—but her facial expression looks heavily guarded.</p><p>“I didn’t know,” Itachi replies cautiously, “But I’m glad you like them.”</p><p>Mirai looks at him then, and something in her eyes makes him feel as if he has hurt her. The sensation leaves an unpleasant taste in his mouth, as if he had forgotten to brush his teeth this morning. The nervousness already churning in his stomach and the newfound dismay, together, nauseates him. Itachi tries desperately to hold back the bile rising in his throat. </p><p>“Do you know the meaning for cyclamens?” he asks, because he must know.</p><p>Did his message get across? Had something been lost in translation? If she does know what the flowers mean—what he had meant to say with the cyclamens—is she choosing to pretend they are just flowers? Why does she have this pained look on her face? Itachi cannot bear not knowing how she truly feels, and <em>why</em>.</p><p>The pot of cyclamens is his wordless confession, and he is restless to know her response.</p><p>“Yeah,” Mirai says.</p><p>She pauses. Even if the majority of the meanings for cyclamens are positive ones in this situation, she can already imagine the shame seeping through her skin if she is wrong. She simply cannot risk assuming—hoping—that the flowers mean what she so desperately wants them to mean. And so she turns the question back on Itachi.</p><p>“Do you?”</p><p>He quirks an eyebrow, not expecting a deflection from her. It is like walking on ice now, a dance between them.</p><p>Itachi nods.</p><p>There is silence again, and he bites his lip as he realizes he should really explain. They have already been speaking in soft voices, but his next words are even quieter.</p><p>“I wanted to give them to you because of their meaning,” Itachi finally clarifies, “about sincerity. And…devotion, and sincere tenderness…if you’ll accept.</p><p>He hears the words coming out of his mouth, but he is not quite sure if they make sense. Is his explanation even coherent to her? Itachi’s cheeks are heating up and his mind feels hazy as the blood rushes through his ears. His heart seldom beats this fast, he thinks, even around Mirai.</p><p>In the town library, Itachi had scoured books about the language of flowers for the right one. There had been other pretty flowers on his walks too—but it had been this one, the cyclamen, that was the most appropriate, he thought.</p><p>He cannot find it in himself to breathe, because even such a little action seems too overwhelming right now. All he can do is stand here and melt into the ground as his nerves scatter into a million different directions.</p><p>Mirai makes a little sound—his mind slowly registers it as a sound indicating surprise—and when he finds the courage to meet her eyes again, she is wearing an entirely different expression. The guardedness is gone, and instead her eyes are wide with disbelief. The good kind, he thinks. He hopes.</p><p>She looks at him as if he had handed her his heart in his hands, and Itachi supposes he essentially has. There is also something softer alongside her shock, something that looks startlingly like endearment. It is startling to him because it has been such a long time since anyone looked at him endearingly.</p><p>“I-I was afraid the meaning was resignation or goodbye,” Mirai blurts out, “That was stupid of me. But I was so scared I’d done something wrong and, <em>oh god</em>. This cannot be happening.”</p><p>The nervousness shaking beneath her smile makes him grin to himself, because things are alright now. She understands the flowers and she is happy, and that is all he could have hoped for—all he had been hoping for.</p><p>He chuckles then, the laugh washing out tension that has been cementing in his lungs. Itachi really doesn’t know what to do with this look of endearment still on Mirai’s face—it makes him feel so helplessly giddy, a completely foreign state of mind for him.</p><p>“I’m sorry if you misunderstood,” he tells her, but she just shakes her head and laughs with him.</p><p>He braces himself for the next part, because he’s never done something like this before. But it is important to him to be certain, to really know. Any more uncertainty regarding this matter would destroy him; it has been eating at him for hours and he cannot bear another minute of it.  </p><p>All his life, Itachi had never had to really ask for anything. He had been a well-mannered child, too mature and selfless for his own good. Asking was only ever just words, but he found that he always had to brace himself each time he asked for something.</p><p>The first few months of being reintegrated back into the village, it would take him several hours to bring himself to ask Sasuke for things. Things like a new bar of soap, if it was okay to use the kitchen in the early mornings, if it was okay to leave the house without telling anyone where he was going. It was so much more complicated with other people in his life now—he had never had to ask people for things before. Life, for the longest time ever, had consisted of him taking orders or giving them. </p><p>And as a ninja of his status, many other things besides orders had always been taken. The world took things from him: his family and entire clan; his reputation; and for quite some time, Sasuke had been taken away from him as well. His freedom, during all those years he’d been rogue and with the Akatsuki. He took things from other people, too: money, lives, the livelihood of an entire clan.</p><p>So, in his past life as a shinobi, asking for things was almost pointless. It meant you probably had slim chances at whatever you wanted or needed to get. But he is aware his life is different now. There are things he wants, and they are uncertain. Things he has to ask for: things he has completely no idea if he will ever be allowed to have, but the only way to find out is to ask. There is absolutely no other way to know.</p><p>And how very different this sense of uncertainty is from any other thing he’s ever had to deliberate. It makes him nervous to the point of complete instability, apprehension and hope turning inside his stomach like sardines frantically flopping in a net.</p><p>His chances of success are fair, but…life often surprises him. He coughs, once.</p><p>“Mirai, would you possibly…like to date me?”</p><p>The stupefied look on her face emphasizes the incredulity in her voice as she counters, “Do <em>you </em>want to date me?”</p><p>The look of total surprise on Itachi’s face would be comical, if she was not the person who had caused it. Why had she squawked out her insecurity so quickly and blatantly? But she really is dumbfounded by Itachi’s question, wondering <em>how</em> the fuck things could ever end up like this. It feels like such a dream; everything about this is almost absurd.</p><p>Her heart hammers against her chest.</p><p>Itachi Uchiha wants to fucking <em>date </em>her.</p><p>He is <em>asking </em>her out.</p><p>She cannot fucking believe her life right now—she cannot believe <em>him. </em></p><p>“Yes!”</p><p>Her helplessly enthusiastic exclamation echoes back at her, and then Mirai realizes Itachi had said ‘yes’ at the same time as she had. They pause for a millisecond. Her breath catches in her throat until she sees the corners of Itachi’s eyes crinkling in the corners. Mirai isn’t sure who laughs first, her or Itachi, or even why they’re laughing. She is still a bit nervous from the residual nerves, but there’s also a new feeling of nervousness settling in: a slight sense of anxiety of what is to come, because she really doesn’t know what will come out of all this. She’s happy, too, even as her mind scrambles to properly process the progression of events in the past few minutes.</p><p>They stand outside her shop laughing, and then silently smiling afterward like teenage idiots. Itachi beams at her, and she is filled with the most paradoxical urge: Mirai wants to turn away because the look of absolute joy on his face is almost too much—she has never seen him this happy, she thinks—but at the same time, she could spend a million years looking at this face. She does not want to miss a single second when he looks like this. And to think that she is the one he is smiling at, in this incredibly fond way, leaves her at a complete loss for words.</p><p>Perhaps the right words will come later. But for now, she is more than okay with this.</p><p>She doesn’t want him to go just yet, she realizes. By the way Itachi is standing, nervously shuffling his feet but his entire body pointed toward her, she dares to hope that he also does not want to leave.</p><p>When Mirai asks if he wants to come over to her house for dinner, he nods happily.</p><p>Sasuke might worry if he’s not home for dinner, Itachi thinks belatedly. He could send a clone later. The mental note is immediately swept into the back of his mind as Itachi is caught in another wave of elation.</p><p>Mirai blushes during the entire walk back to her house, and the pot of cyclamens feels awkward in her hands—she feels horribly self-conscious of everything about her movements right now. While she is grateful to have something in her hands to avoid fidgeting, she still can’t help feeling so obviously <em>awkward </em>next to Itachi<em>. </em></p><p>It does not help that they do not exchange a single word on the way back to her apartment. They barely even make eye contact, because when one of them chances to meet the other’s eyes, an inexplicable sense of anxiety explodes within her. It is impossible to stop the smiles that keep pushing through her mouth. Mirai had never imagined having her feelings reciprocated would make her feel so stupidly happy.</p><p>She had already thought everything about the man was so sincere and kind, but the cyclamens only scream it even louder. The fact that Itachi had given her these flowers—flowers he had picked himself from the woods—makes her <em>swoon.</em> There is a steady flame spilling forth from her chest, spreading everywhere through her body. Her fingertips feel electric and Mirai just wants to scream something, anything, out into the world. Her body couldn’t possibly handle so much happiness, she thinks. It feels as if it could be fatal. </p><p>
  
</p><p> </p>
<h1 class="char Zyyy U2698">⚘</h1><p> </p><p>“Two minutes,” Naruto whispers in Sasuke’s ear.</p><p>They’re perched at the edge of the roof, watching his brother and Mirai below. They had tailed Itachi to the plant shop, although he had a feeling that his older brother had known he was being followed all along.</p><p>Still, Sasuke has a duty to look after his brother—strong as Itachi was, he would probably not be invincible against heartbreak. If anything, Itachi would be completely devastated because these sorts of things were very new to him. Had his brother ever asked another person out, much less have a first kiss?</p><p>Thankfully, Mirai seemed to be just as smitten with Itachi.</p><p>“Two minutes, I think it will be two minutes,” Naruto whispers again.</p><p>Except it’s not really whispering because Naruto sucks at whispering.</p><p>Sasuke turns to his boyfriend and deadpans, “What.”</p><p>“I think it’ll take two minutes after they get to her apartment,” Naruto says.</p><p>Sasuke is still looking blankly at him, so Naruto continues, “Ya know, until the clothes come off and-”</p><p>The younger Uchiha turns red in a second, and he shoves Naruto instinctively.</p><p>“Don’t say that!” he snarks crossly, “Itachi isn’t like that. He is very patient. Almost too much—I think it would be like, another two weeks.”</p><p>“Uh huh,” Naruto is not convinced at all.</p><p>“I’m sure he’ll come home tonight,” Sasuke argues.</p><p>“Oh, he’ll come alright,” Naruto snickers, “But not home. And hopefully not <em>at </em>home because I don’t wanna hear that stuff between Mirai and your brother, ya know?”</p><p>Sasuke is simultaneously aware of how strangled the weird noise coming from his throat sounds, and how much he is personally struggling to not strangle his own boyfriend. Naruto might take the opportunity to crack another dirty joke, and he was <em>not </em>going to give this idiot any openings right now. Not that there was anything wrong about having certain…preferences involving nice hands around his neck in bed. Sasuke was quite secure in his preferences. </p><p>Naruto then raises his eyebrows in a challenge, “So, what if he doesn’t come home?”</p><p><em>That would be okay, too, </em>Sasuke thinks. He knows he can be a bit too overprotective of Itachi, but his brother could be so horribly clueless sometimes. Even at twenty-seven, after four years of living in Konoha again, the elder Uchiha still really worries him sometimes. At the same time, Sasuke believes Itachi could take care of himself in this situation. He and Naruto had given Itachi an extensive breakdown on present-day dating conventions.</p><p>“If he doesn’t come home, you can be top tonight,” Sasuke says nonchalantly as possible.  </p><p>He almost falls off the edge of the roof when Naruto claps him heartily on the back, laughing boisterously at Sasuke’s terms. He’s about to push Naruto back after he steadies himself, but he is greeted with the warmth of familiar lips pecking him on the cheek. Sasuke scowls.</p><p>Naruto knows this is the good kind of scowl, because Sasuke has many different types. This is the type for when Sasuke gets something good but doesn’t want to admit it or say thank you. He can always tell by the way Sasuke averts his eyes to the right.  </p><p>“Bastard, we both know you like being bottom anyways,” Naruto mutters cheerily in his ears.</p><p>Sasuke scowls again, then sighs in agreement: “Let’s go home.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
<h1 class="char Zyyy U2698">⚘</h1><p> </p><p>The first thing Mirai does when she gets back to the apartment is search for a place to put the cyclamens. She finally settles on a spot on the kitchen counter, adjacent to the balcony window: there is good, bright filtered light here for most of the day.</p><p>Once her hands are free of the pot, they suddenly feel very naked and restless. She also feels the overpowering intensity of how it is just the two of them in the apartment, not that there was ever anyone else. But somehow it just feels much more pronounced and intimate now.</p><p>Itachi is also standing close behind her; he had stepped closer to watch her as she positioned the pot on the counter. Mirai exhales a shaky breath and takes the first step; it is only fair, because he had done the same this morning. She wants to show him that she is just as interested, if not more.</p><p>Her arms circle around his waist quickly and she presses her face into his chest, indulging in a slight nuzzle. The little breath of pleasant surprise from Itachi makes her grin, and when she glances up at him she can’t help the dopey look on her face.</p><p>She wants to say thank you, but holds it back because she isn’t exactly sure how she’d answer if Itachi asked what she was thanking him for. The flowers? Coming over to her apartment? Their friendship? His entire existence?</p><p>To Itachi, Mirai is looking at him like…he hung the moon, to use a cliché line. He can feel the Sharingan pulling at his eyes again, but he dismisses the urge with a few determined blinks. His arms instinctively wrapping around her body surprises him, especially when his hands somehow find their place without hesitation. His left hand on her lower back, his right hand behind the back of her head as he holds her gently to himself. </p><p>They stay like this for a couple minutes, although the ability to gather any true sense of time is becoming increasingly impossible. In the evening light, everything feels honeyed and slow.</p><p>Itachi lets go because he is filled with an overwhelming need to look at her face—to make sure this is all very real, that he is with Mirai right now and holding her. She unclasps her hands from his back but leaves one hand lingering on the edge of his hip.</p><p>He searches her face. For what, he doesn’t know, but he’s satisfied with all that he sees. When Mirai leans back onto the counter behind her, Itachi finds himself stumbling forward: a subconscious and desperate desire to bridge the minimal gap between them. His arms frame both sides of her body, edging her even closer to the counter.</p><p>Mirai swallows as she feels the counter’s edge against her back. It feels very solid, and her legs do not. Any remaining self-discipline she has is bound to dissipate momentarily, and then she will be quaking like a leaf. Is Itachi even aware of the position they are in, and how it makes her feel?</p><p>“Your heart is beating very fast,” he remarks in awe and confusion.</p><p>
  <em>Of course he doesn’t realize. </em>
</p><p>How very like him to be so oblivious of his charms.</p><p>She doesn’t mean to shiver.</p><p>The movement does not go unnoticed by Itachi, who peers at her curiously. Mirai can feel the heat rushing to her face, and she wonders what would be worse—Itachi discovering that she is already intensely turned on from the slightest bit of physical contact they’ve had, or him not realizing his actions’ effects on her at all.</p><p>“I, uh, kinda…I kinda have a thing for hot people pushing me against counters and walls and beds and stuff,” Mirai says, finding it harder to breathe as her brain processes the vulnerable situation she’s placed herself in by admitting this aloud.  </p><p>It is definitely impossible for her to meet his eyes after confessing such a thing, and she accidentally flinches when she feels something touching her forehead. It’s Itachi. His face is so close, and she wonders what he thinks of her pores and all the other gross things on her face that are especially apparent close-up.</p><p>His neck is craned downward, his forehead pressing softly against hers and arms still bracketing her sides. Her body is whining to move, but at the same time she is inexplicably paralyzed.</p><p>They both move again at the same moment, their faces turning. And then their glasses bump together with a slight <em>clink, </em>causing Itachi to chuckle lowly. The sound snakes down Mirai’s back, goosebumps spreading from the base of her neck to her shoulders.</p><p>Who takes their glasses off first? She is not sure, but she does know that Itachi doesn’t appear any less devastatingly handsome with her glasses off—and he’s so, so close to her right now that she can see every bit of his beauty so very clearly anyways. His heartbeat is quickening, she realizes. It is such a strange thing, to be able to feel it thumping against her own.</p><p>Itachi’s hands slide, tentatively, toward her waist. A thumb brushing across her hip bone: a whisper, a suggestion, as he continues to gaze at her. She lifts her hands again then, unsure what to do. Her palms smooth over the surface of his back, fingers drawing a mix of lines and shapes with the fabric of his t-shirt moving, gently, beneath her tracing. She feels his gaze intensifying as he leans forward, pressing their bodies even closer together. The pressure of the counter edge against her back reminds her of where they are, but she pushes the thought aside as her desire rises once again.</p><p>Warily, her hands find the hem of his shirt, asking a silent question as she gives a gentle tug. Itachi nods—she doesn’t see, but she feels the bob of his head—and she dips her fingers beneath the fabric.</p><p>The sensation of her fingertips against his bare skin, even if it is only a tiny sliver of space on his waist that she touching directly, makes Itachi instantly feel like clay; he is content to be anything shaped by her touches. </p><p>“Can I-” he can barely hear himself, his voice so small and distant to him, “too?”</p><p>Mirai nods, eagerly. She makes a contented noise as one of his thumbs skims horizontally across the area of skin just above the waistband of her pants.</p><p>When she hooks her fingers around the loops of his pants, Itachi can’t help but reach for more of her. He must have brushed against a ticklish part as he moves forward to kiss her, because she twitches ever so lightly under his touch, exposing the side of her neck to him—and this is where he redirects his mouth to, curiously. </p><p>The little moan that escapes from her mouth wipes his mind blank.</p><p>It is the first time he has heard such a sound from her, and he is bewildered that he has been able to accomplish such a thing. He kisses her in the same spot on her neck again, and Mirai hums happily. The kisses bleed into one another, each one growing slightly more fervent as he is fueled by the soft, enthralling noises of satisfaction Mirai makes. Their hands, too, become increasingly hungry—the touches are tentative before they both become impatient, roaming beneath each other’s shirts in endless exploration of skin.</p><p>She looks at him sheepishly, before standing up on her tip-toes. Itachi angles himself, meeting Mirai halfway to greet her gently pursed lips. They both hold their eyes open in this first kiss—and perhaps their breaths too, because Mirai feels as if this kiss leaves her more breathless than kisses usually do. But she does not mind about the breathlessness, or the open eyes, not at all. Itachi’s pupils are dilated—much like her own must be, she thinks—and he is looking at her in wordless prayer.</p><p>Mirai would be lying if she said she had never imagined how it would feel like to do this, to kiss Itachi. But now the real thing is happening, and it is everything she had imagined and more. Her stomach turns inside out as her brain short-circuits; she cannot find the words to properly describe this warmth, and she doesn’t want to put words to it either. All she wants is more of this, more of anything and everything that he can give to her.</p><p>When they break apart, Itachi is breathing audibly, his chest trembling. She stretches to kiss him on the neck, pressing a promise into his pulse.</p><p>Itachi wonders how else he could give after <em>this, </em>after what feels like baring his naked soul to her. Even though he is still fully clothed, he feels so wholly bare in her arms right now, as she runs her hands over his ribs, as she presses a palm to his stomach, as she drums her fingers against his skin. The idea of surrendering has always been bitter, but he can see now how it can be cathartic. And not at all a loss in any way, shape, or form. Just bliss. </p><p>For so long, he had been so afraid of surrendering. For all these years, the idea of being truly happy had scared him—after all, who would he be if he tried to reconcile mountains of loss, if he dared to divorce himself from his effortless guilt? Now he is not so afraid of finding out.</p><p><em>There is something there for me, </em>Itachi thinks. Something else to life other than anguish and self-loathing, something more than days blurring into one another and slow recovery.  </p><p>“Would you like to go to my room?” Mirai asks quietly, and she delights in seeing the hairs on his neck, by the ear she had whispered into, standing up as Itachi nods quickly.</p><p>He swoops down to hide his own smile in her neck, committing the song of her heartbeat, jackrabbiting away in the side of her throat, to his memory. He wants this tattooed into his brain for all eternity: this feeling of her pulsing blood against his lips and her small, ragged breaths rushing by his ear.</p><p>When Itachi separates from her—although he is now holding her hand, she notes happily—it takes every ounce of restraint in Mirai’s body to not run to her room. Or trip over her own feet, or drag Itachi after her. When they’re in her bedroom, she finds herself closing the door even though they are the only ones in her apartment; it just feels like the right thing to do.</p><p>And it proves to be, when she turns around and finds herself promptly being pressed against the door by an Uchiha who will not cease to surprise her.</p><p>“Is this because of what I said earlier?” she asks jokingly after a short kiss.</p><p>All their kisses feel too short—they could do just that all night and it would still not be enough kissing.</p><p>“Yes,” Itachi admits, and he has the audacity to <em>blush, </em>“But I also think I have a thing for pinning pretty people against hard surfaces.”</p><p>His smooth talking is definitely annihilating her patience, and she makes him aware of this as she hooks her fingers through his belt loops and tugs. He had seemed to appreciate it earlier when she did this in the kitchen.</p><p>Silently, Itachi is making a mental note to himself that Mirai doing this <em>really</em> encourages his libido.</p><p>Somehow, they tumble into bed. Mirai finds herself beneath Itachi—this is the first thing her mind registers. Second, that his thigh is resting between her legs. She distracts herself by kissing him back fiercely, but Itachi seems to take this as a challenge because after a few kisses he dives for her neck.</p><p>Her eyes flutter deliriously as he presses kiss after kiss to her neck, switching sides whenever she grows quiet for even a second. Even if they don’t take their clothes off, she could die like this, she thinks. Then he pauses, and she can’t help the pout that flits across her face at the interruption.</p><p>“Is this too much?” he asks, stilling at the glazed look in her eyes.</p><p>Mirai shakes her head ‘no,’ her hand grabbing a fistful of his shirt, weakly, in an attempt to bring him closer again to her.</p><p>“I like neck kisses very much,” she tells him as he studies her face for any signs of discomfort, “If you leave marks—if you want to leave marks—”</p><p>She swallows, the words of her subtly-masked plea dying in her throat as he brushes a couple strands of hair out of her face and tucks them behind her ear. This tender gesture, seemingly mindless to him, makes her want to cry.</p><p>“I understand,” he smiles, and resumes kissing her neck—but this time with a bit more force.</p><p>“Ita…chi…”</p><p>It is only three syllables, but she struggles to pronounce them smoothly as his name spills out from her amidst a tangle of breathy sighs and moans, all soaked in <em>want. </em>She had not meant to call out for him like this, sounding so horribly wrecked. The man was only kissing her neck, for fuck’s sake.</p><p>She risks a glance at him, and figures that perhaps it is not something she needs to be so embarrassed about because he is staring back at her fondly, looking very pleased with himself.</p><p>When she had said his name like that…he had felt as if someone had ripped his chest open and poured ice water into his veins. He did not know his name could sound like <em>that </em>in her mouth.</p><p>He diligently teases more delightful noises out of her, hoping that she will say his name again. Her raspy breaths become increasingly punctuated with soft moans, and Itachi becomes more and more aware of the want surging within him; at the same time, he is perfectly satisfied with continuing to just <em>give</em>.</p><p>Itachi’s shirt is already lifted more than halfway up as Mirai’s hands explore his body hungrily. She runs her fingers over his abs, dares to venture to his chest, then swipes back down to his ribs. She is not a particularly patient person when it comes to physical intimacy, especially if she and the person in question are already touching each other. His palms feel heavy and warm underneath her shirt, but she notices that he has not ventured anywhere near her bra.</p><p>And then she registers him hardening against her, and Mirai unthinkingly shifts her hips to subtly grind into him, desperately seeking friction. Or at least she thought she had been subtle, until Itachi freezes—and she freezes too, like a deer caught in headlights. The embarrassment wells inside of her, apologies swimming in her mind. But the look on his face is one of endearment, and perhaps a bit of amusement.</p><p>“Perhaps…maybe we could take our clothes off now?” Itachi asks hopefully, and she chokes out a yes.</p><p>He asks again, just to make sure, and she gives him multiple yes’s.</p><p>She has never been stripped so seamlessly—Itachi’s fingers are skilled and smooth and she doesn’t even know if she succeeds in helping him take off a single article of clothing, or if he does it all himself. He hums appreciatively at every new inch of her skin revealed to him, and Mirai blushes as he does so.</p><p>When they are both naked save for their underwear, Itachi suddenly looks nervous, a light pink at the tip of his ears. He has never been particularly self-conscious about his body, but that does not mean he is quite confident about it either. She reaches out to squeeze his hand, and gratitude wells up inside of him. Mirai looks at him with shining eyes, blatant and honest in her admiration.</p><p>He is just so beautiful to her, her heart crying and her jaw going slack at the sight of a bare Itachi.</p><p>Mirai shudders at the momentarily unexpectedness of cool air on her heated body, and then she finds herself instantly swallowed up by warmth again as Itachi eradicates any and all space between their bodies.</p><p>He touches her everywhere, his fingers littering goosebumps in their wake. She strokes the smooth expanse of his wide back, mind still trying to process the absolute closeness of their bare selves, pressed against one another. His lithe body envelops her so wholly.</p><p>She is by no means a stranger to touch, and even if it has been a while, she cannot remember feeling so incredibly aroused. But perhaps this is only natural because Itachi is not some fling or one-night stand, not even an insanely hot ninja that she has managed to pick up from the bar on a hazy weekend night.</p><p>The feeling is mutual for Itachi as well.</p><p>Touch was hard to come by in his past life—genuine touches that had not been paid or gambled for, touches with no expiration date. And everything sexual during his years on the run had been almost completely void of warmth, just a tangle of limbs and muscle meeting muscle. It had always seemed to be boredom or necessity: a night to collect information, a quick orgasm to get rid of headaches, a thing to kill time and pretend to be normal.</p><p>Now, his heartbeat quakes through his entire torso, even down to his groin. It is a peculiar place to feel his pulse.</p><p>Everything in his past life had always been some sort of task to him. A mission. A goal. Dreams, if he was ever hopeful. There were names and times, bounties and deadlines. Life had been like a long string of assignments, whether he’d been in the academy, Anbu, or Akatsuki.</p><p>But this is not something with an end result in view—yes, he does want to make her say his name so tenderly and vulnerably again. Yes, he wants her to touch him everywhere, for her hands to stoke that fire rising in him. He wants to make her feel good; Itachi wants to make Mirai come and hold her tightly when she does, if she will let him. But there is so much more that he wants, and he thinks he is being greedy.</p><p>Greed has always been strange to him, doing things just to indulge. But now, he finds himself wanting more. This greed in him even hungers for things he is not concretely aware of, he thinks. He does not know where it will end at all—how and when to stop, when he would be perfectly content to lie here forever with her?</p><p>“I-” Itachi begins, quietly.</p><p>Mirai notices the slightly troubled look in his eyes and she touches his face, smoothing out the small wrinkles between his brows.</p><p>“I feel greedy,” he shyly confides, “Touching you. And when you touch me.”</p><p>Even though she feels similarly, so entirely consumed with endless want when their bodies are like this, Mirai laughs softly back at him.</p><p>“Maybe if we’re both greedy…for each other…it’s just fulfilling,” she offers.</p><p>Fulfilling is a much better word than greed, Itachi agrees. And everything about this is indeed fulfilling, even if he had never really thought physical touch like <em>this </em>was something that belonged in his life. Or that he would ever meet someone like Mirai.</p><p>There is still a feeling of indulgence to all this, but instead of feeling shamefully selfish, he finds himself growing, slowly, more and more exhilarated by the idea.</p><p>Itachi kisses Mirai again. He wonders how each kiss can only feel warmer than the last. It is a phenomenon, he thinks, when they kiss each other.  </p><p>Mirai trails her fingers through the divot between his shoulder blades as Itachi nips at her earlobe. She giggles at the slightly ticklish feeling, then runs a hand over his rippling muscles, watching him shiver as she traces circles in the space of his lower back, next to his hip. The vibrations of his body shuddering, gently, echoes into her own. All she feels is unceasing warmth, exploding over and over as their mouths meet again, and again, endlessly.</p><p>When the pad of his thumb strokes one of her nipples, her back arches in immediate response. She breathes heavily as his mouth pulls away from hers, as he lays his head on her chest, ear pressed to her heart as he plays her in his hands.</p><p>“Do you…” he blushes, even though she cannot see his face right now, “Can I use my mouth?”</p><p>“Yes,” Mirai gasps, and the anticipation flares for barely a second before his lips are on her chest.</p><p>His tongue is so warm and slick across her hardened nipples, and she calls his name repeatedly amongst a fusillade of moans.</p><p>Itachi is so preoccupied with pleasing her that he does not notice her own hand reaching out for him, until there is a firm palm gripping the back of his neck, sending sharp chills through his body. He stills, and Mirai does too, knowing that something is completely wrong.</p><p>The neck is a sensitive spot, and no one has ever touched him there—exactly here, at the back of the neck. It is every person’s weak spot, a minefield of nerves and pressure points embedded there. A swift strike could knock a person out. An especially calculated hit could easily be lethal.</p><p>He realizes she is apologizing profusely, withdrawing her hand from him like she has touched fire. His heart swells at the realization that she can so easily and quickly perceive his discomfort.</p><p>Itachi apologizes, too. He is not a shinobi anymore, but old habits die hard. He explains this to her, his vulnerable words ghosting across her bare chest in warm breaths as he keeps his head down, unable to meet Mirai’s eyes as she repeatedly asks him if he’s okay.</p><p>“Can I still kiss your neck?” she asks tentatively, and he squeezes her in response as he thinks of her leaving similar marks on his neck.</p><p>“Yes,” he says without hesitation, then much more quietly, “You can touch me anywhere. I like—I like your hands in my hair, and when you hold my face. Just—just not the back of the neck. For now.”</p><p><em>Please keep touching me, </em>he begs internally. He doesn’t ever want her to stop.</p><p>And she does, cupping his face in both hands as she pulls him in for another kiss. When she bites his bottom lip, gently, Itachi finds something in himself sharpening, flickering to life in response. He likes it. He bends into her touch, because even if he has touched other bodies and been touched, nothing has ever felt like this. Nothing can even come close. He craves her hands, he realizes.</p><p>A million moans, even if he could give her that many, would not be nearly enough for one of her touches. Each and every one leaves him aching with something very close to hunger, but much more tender.</p><p>Mirai looks at all of Itachi’s hair—it is splayed over her chest and shoulders as he leans over her, over the pillow. Some strands are even mixing into her own hair and she doesn’t know where Itachi ends and she starts. She has never felt so…together with a person.</p><p>She threads her fingers through his long hair, her fingertips massaging his scalp whenever she remembers to. Sometimes when they are kissing she cannot focus on doing anything else with her hands—anything else but holding onto him—, as she is rendered completely helpless in his arms.</p><p>He hums contentedly against the base of her throat as she strokes his hair. Itachi closes his eyes to bask in the heat of their shared tenderness, a look of utmost ease washing over his face as he drapes himself over her. He can feel all the muscles in his body slackening; as long as she has her hands on him, he has no desire to feel anything else. He doesn’t want anything else but her, here and now. She smiles knowingly.</p><p>“Can I touch you?” she whispers, “There?”</p><p>Her thigh presses softly against his hardened self, and Itachi inhales sharply. He nods swiftly.</p><p>“Y-yes, <em>please</em>,” he pleads, “Can I?”</p><p>“Yes,” she smiles, as she leans down to grip him in her hand.</p><p>Itachi sighs beautifully, and Mirai takes a few seconds to savor the sound before sliding her hand underneath the waistband of his briefs. He’s wet, and she smirks a little as she swipes a deft thumb across the tip, smoothing the moisture downward. He twitches under her touch. Itachi buries his face into her neck, and her smirk grows as she murmurs in his ear.</p><p>“Do you have…?”</p><p>Perhaps asking half-finished questions, but managing to understand each other nonetheless, is their thing. Itachi would not mind it becoming a regular occurrence. But just to make sure, he clarifies.</p><p>“Condoms?”</p><p>Mirai nods, then a look of surprise flashes across her face as she wonders if she has assumed too much. She is relieved when Itachi murmurs an affirmative and gestures to his pants on the floor.</p><p>Naruto and Sasuke had put condoms in all his pants pockets—he had no idea exactly when they’d done that. Or why, because he was quite responsible and capable. He feels the need to explain himself, to justify—he doesn’t walk around everywhere with condoms in his pockets, for god’s sake—but Mirai just looks content.</p><p>“We might need them later, if you’d like,” she says as she resumes palming him.</p><p>“I’d like that very much,” he rasps into her hair, and she feels another wave of goosebumps rippling across her back.</p><p>He hadn’t even said anything remotely dirty, but she is throbbing uncontrollably.  </p><p>Itachi leans forward similarly, his fingers sliding under the side of her underwear to the warmth below her hips. After a few strokes with his index and middle fingers, Mirai’s face twists in pleasure and he angles himself, eagerly, to he can see her reactions better as they continue. He feels as if her face is already very familiar, a most comforting thing in this world. He spends so much time staring at her as their bodies crush against one another; yet he accidentally forgets that he is staring each time, losing himself in her.</p><p>He tries his best to memorize everything each time he registers that he is staring, cataloging the expressions by the creases in her brows and the slight frowns around her mouth before each alluring noise she makes. Despite how much he is greedily swallowing up in his gazes, he finds that there is always something else, something inexplicable that captivates him each time he looks at her—he finds himself drinking in the sight of her again and again. It is an endless thing, looking at her. He could never tire of looking at Mirai, he thinks.</p><p>When he feels the Sharingan beginning to stir again, he closes his eyes and kisses her neck. He is aware of each and every one of her fingers pressing against his skin. A perfect life, he supposes, would be one where her hands never left his body. Mirai lets out another mesmerizing moan as she clutches at the edge of his shoulder. Somehow she has ended up on top of him, straddling his hips as she slides forward to kiss a spot beneath his chin, her fingers lined against his jaw.</p><p>Every now and then, there are brief moments when Itachi realizes the true magnitude of the haunting within him—this is one of such moments. Because there is only the pressure of her body atop his, and he could not have asked for a better exchange of weight.</p><p>His chest aches in a fascinating way, as if someone is wringing it clean of that hulking heaviness, and all the other burdens he did not know he had been carrying.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>so, this is the last chapter of the fic. sorry if you wanted something more or were led to believe you'd get more because of the mature warning. i dont really think i have the capability to pull that off in a way i'd like, so instead u get whatever this chapter is. pls tell me if u felt anything. like disgust...personal concern for my obsession with hands or the fact that i am, once again, obviously touch-starved. (but like i really would like critical feedback on my physical intimacy scenes bc????? i need to know) </p><p>thank you, thank you so much for reading this fic, and for all your support. the comments make my day because it STILL perplexes me how much other people also enjoy?? this weird alive-itachi story i made, quite honestly, just for fun. finishing this fic makes me happy and proud but also...i might cry? blame mercury retrograde. </p><p>i have already started thinking of possible itachi stories for the future, but they may also just be fleeting ideas (some really questionable modern AU itachi...maybe it's best they never come to fruition)...and they definitely won't happen for a while (if ever) BUT! </p><p>I WOULD LIKE TO SAY I AM OPEN FOR REQUESTS,IF ANYONE IS INTERESTED. &amp; not necessarily for just itachi either, but i suppose we will stick with just narutoverse for now. pls drop a comment if you're interested. i'm thinking short things. idk. things also sometimes grow much larger than u anticipate. i just want to practice writing a bit more regularly, and am interested in hearing your ideas, truly. but also no promises because like...i can't imagine how anxiety-ridden i would be trying to deliver to someone with expectations. but i will try my best, if i think your request is feasible/fun.  </p><p>...needless to say, you should not take off all your clothes with someone after buying like 4 types of plants from them. life doesn’t work like that. (but if it does for you, good job). </p><p>i would buy all my readers plants if i could. ｡･ﾟヾ(✦థ ｪ థ)ﾉ｡ﾟ･｡ perhaps hydrangea bunches for appreciation and heartfelt emotion. pls stay safe (there is so much going on, and mercury retrograde too) &amp; i wish you all a bit more happiness in your lives. (人･㉨･)♡</p>
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